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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






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liTLaxaveLl from, a Plaotogxapli taJseia BTpxessly for this Worl^ 

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SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW 



OR, 



GLEANINGS FROM MY LIFE ¥OEK. 



COMPRISING 

PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AND OPINIONS, ANECDOTES, INCIDENTS, 
AND REMINISCENCES, 

GATHERED FROM 

THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS' EXPERIENCE ON TEE PLATFORM 

AND AMONG THE PEOPLE, 

AT HOME AND ABROAD. 



^J ^ou By JOH]Sr B. GOUGH. 



Wd\ J^ttll-pngc ^ttgrabxjtgs, anb ^feel-^IatB portrait of i\z g^ut^or. 



J will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten. 

Joel ii. 25. 



HARTFORD, CONN. 
A. D. WORTHINGTON AND COMPANY. 

A. G. NETTLETON & CO., CHICAGO, ILLS. 
F. DEWING & CO., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 

1880. 










Entered, according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1880, 

By A. D. WORTHINGTON ANT) COMPANY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 



TO 



MY WIFE, 



THE FAITHFUL FRIEND, LOVING HELPMEET, 

AND JUDICIOUS ADVISER FOR 

THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS; 

WITH rNABATED TEUST, AND EVER INCREASING 
LOYE," 



I gebicate l^is $ooi 



PREFACE 



IiT the preface to a work entitled "The Odious, 
Despicable, and Dreadful Condition of a Drunkard," 
by Junius Florilegus, published in London in 1649, 
the writer — not dreaming that an American would 
borrow it two hundred and thirty years after — says : 

"Experience teaches that no one thing (be it the 
yiolet) will please every one. - That nothing is more 
easie than to finde a colour of exceptions. That men's 
censures are as various as their palats. That some 
are as deeply in love with vice as others with vertue. 
That crossed wickedness proves desperate, and in- 
stead of yielding seeks for revenge of its own sins 
upon others' uprightness. Shall I then make myself 
the subject of every opinion, wise and weak? Yes, 
I had rather hazard the censure of some than hinder 
the good of others. Again, if I do ill, no plea can 
warrant me; I cannot be discouraged with any cen- 
sures; my desire is to satisfy all honest minds' 
Therefore, the medicine must be fitted to the dis- 
ease; the wedge proportioned to the timber; for the 
harder and more knotty our hearts are, the harder 

V 



VI PREFACE. 

and stronger must be the blows and wedges that 
rive them. . . . There needs neither reasons to be 
given, nor excuses or apologies to be made, where 
the word is our warrant, and the benefit of our fellow- 
men our aim. Thus most humbly beseeching God to 
bless this effort, I leave its success to Him, and its 
use to the world." 

So, borrowing the preface of Junius Florilegus, 
written in 1649, I send out my book, earnestly hoping 
it may be of benefit to some, and harmful to none. 

John B. Gough. 

HiLLSroE, 

Worcester, October, 1880. 



List of Illustrations. 



1. PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR, ON STEEL Frontispiece. 

From a photograph taken expressly for this work, by Fredericks, New York, 
in August, 1880, and Engraved on Steel by J. J. Cade-, New York. 



ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD. 

ABTIST. ENGKAVEE. 

> c n. 

Interior of a Ken or Lodging House. 



2. TRAINING SCHOOL FOR THIEVES. 

• ^. G. McCutcheon, J. P. Davis. To face 106 



3. A STREET PREACHER AND HIS AU- 

j^jgj^^jg ^ Geo. G. White. John Karst. " 126 

4. ONE OF DEATH'S VICTIMS.— The Widow , 

.Fred'ckDielman. Charles Speigle. " 140 

AND THE Fatherless j 

5. THE BLOOD ON THE CEILING F.O.C. Darley. John Foster. " 250 

6. A CELLAR SCENE. — The Brute and the \ 

IFred'ckDielman. J. P. Davis. " 262 
Lamb > 

7. DRIVEN FROM HOME. — The Refuge on ) 

I Geo. G. White. John Karst. " 270 

the Mountain Side ^ 

8. A HOMELESS HOME. — Destitution and > 

^ IF.O.C. Darley. Charles Speigle. " 280 

Despair ) 

9. RUM'S FOOTPRINT. — Death and Drink. . F. O. C. Darley. N. Orr &- Co. " 294 
10. Rev. C. H. SPURGEON AND MR. GOUGH , 



^ ^ :F. O. C. Darley. Jjohn Karst. 

at the Bedside of the Dying Boy. . . 



11. MEMORIES OF THE GARRET BED- 

C. Darley. N. Orr d?* Co. " 456 
ROOM. 



>F.O. 



12. A FATHER STEALING A TESTAMENT } 
FROM HIS DYING CHILD. . . 



> S. G. McCutcheon. Charles Speigle. " 520 



13. LOOKING FOR FATHER.— An Incident) . ^^ ^^^ 

> F.O.C. Darley. J.P.Davis. " 534 
Reform of a Rumseller \ 



THAT LED TO THE , 



CO:ffTEI^TS. 



CHAPTER I. 

LOOKING BACK OVER LIFE. 

Retrospection and Reflection — " The Chief End of Man" — The 
Secret of Happiness — Experience, a Teacher — The Guiding Hand 

— Trifling Incidents and Momentous Consequences — My Father in 
the English Army — Famine and Despair — Lying down to die — 
Struggling back to Life — Looking for Work — The Office Boy — 
The Shop Boy — Power of Circumstances in shaping Cliaracter — 
Man, Arbiter of his own Fortune — Knotty Problems — Dr. Wm. M. 
Taylor's Advice — Unbelief no Refuge — Boast of Napoleon — Cir- 
cumstances not despotic — Influence of Early Training — My " First 
Shop" — Downward Road easy — Turn in the Tide — "Man's Ex- 
tremity, God's Opportunity " — Seven Years' Night — " Morning Light '* 

— The Day — Striving upwards — Aim of this Volume, . Page 23 

CHAPTER IL 

OUR WELCOME TO ENGLAND — OLD AND NEW FRIENDS. 

Revisiting England — The Welcome — Old Friends missed — Kindness 
of Dean Stanley — "Sermons in Stones" — Coronation Scenes — 
Downing Street — First Address in Metropolitan Tabernacle — An 
Overpowering Reception — Warm Heart and Open Purse — Early 
Dinners and Success — Mercantile Life — The Flowing Bowl in 
Business — " Brackley-Street Mission " — Costermongers' Homes — 
War Nurses — "The Gift of Giving " — Children taking the Pledge 
— Total Abstinence pays — Value of Half a Sovereign — "A Jolly 
Good Fellow" — Rebuking Evil in High Places — "Another Nail in 
my Coffin" — England's Lord High Chancellor — His Official Dig- 
nity — Amazing Progress — The Great Supper — Temperance in 



English Parlors — " Persistence a Cardinal Virtue, 



Vlll 



conte:n'ts. IX 

CHAPTER III. 

STREET LIFE AND SCENES IN THE WORLD'S METROPOLIS. 

London — Life in the Metropolis — Great Contrasts — Unknown 
Depths — "The London Market" — Shops of London — Streets and 
Palaces — Distinctive Communities — A World in Miniature — 
Street People — Cab Experience — Gathering a Crowd — " Vot's 
hup, Cabby?" — Excitements of the Streets — Street Children — "It 
looks werry nice, Sir " — Street Boys' Histories — Awful Surround- 
ings in Childhood — "Never had a Chance" — Barnabas or Barab- 
bas ? — After the Funeral — How the Boy became an Outcast — 
Vice and Crime — The Orphan's Lot — Sixteen Hundred Waifs — 
Sleeping in an Iron Roller and in the Boot of an Omnibus — " We 
must go to Business" — Money-Making — Diving in Sewers — 
" Mud-Larks " — " Wagabones and Hactors " — Street Arabs — 
" Peeler's " Difficulties — Street-Boys' Wit — " Penny " Merchants 

— Street Wares — Cheap Books — " Raising the Wind," . . 55 

CHAPTER W. 
HIGH AND LOW LIFE IN LONDON — CABMEN AND COCKNEYS. 

Cabmen of London: their Great Number — "Exact Fare" — "I shan't 
forget the Phiz " — A Dandy discomfited — Wealth of London — 
Men who have risen — " Cats'-Meat " — Where the Dead Horses 
go — Fortunes by Sharp Practice — Rogueiy reduced to a System — 
The Wine Business — Tricks of Trade — High Art • — Auctioneers 

— Jockeyism and Llorses — Bought his Own Horse — Londoner's 
Self-Esteem — " Connoisseurship in Wines " — Tricks of Professional 
Beggars — The Blind Man who could see — " Eddicatin' Dogs " 

— The Lord Mayor's Show — Hardships of the Lord Mayor's Office 

— "Who is He ?" — Self-made Men — Lord Rothschild's Remark on 
" Selling Matches " — Schools of the Corporation — Disrespectful 
Children — " 'Ow is yer 'Elth?" — Inconvenience of the Letter H. 

— The Gentleman's Story — Meeting with an "Hawful Hend " — 
Dilemma of the Alderman's Daughter — The Omnibus Conductor's 
Vocabulary, 71 

CHAPTER V. 

JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE — SCENES IN THE CRIMINAL COURTS 

OF LONDON. 

The Old Bailey— -A Complete Establishment — " Tried in Drawing- 
Room; hauged in Back Kitchen" — A Criminal Trial, a Sensation 
Drama — Waiting for the Verdict — Atmosphere of the Dock — 



CONTENTS. 

Crime shown in the Face — The Ragged Youth and his Counsel — 
— Police Courts — Ludicrous Scenes — Women's Quarrels — "The 
Love-lorn Widder" — Supporting Nine Children — The Irishman's 
Family at the Bar — Disagreeing Evidence — Children hired out 
to Beggars — The Magistrate and the Chimney Sweep — Drunken- 
ness the Path to the Police Court — "Taking in" People — Bird 
Fanciers cheated — Painted Sparrows — Uncertainty of the Law — 
The Thief and his Cherries — Barnacles — Expense of the Civil 
Service — Government Leeches — The Mysterious Warning — Pre- 
mium on Idleness — " How not to do it," 84 



CHAPTER VI. 

LIFE AMONG COSTERMONGERS, BEGGARS, AND THIEVES — 
SCENES AT VICTORIA THEATRE. 

The Costermongers — "Picking up Crusts" — Street Fellowship — 
Religion and Respectability — Kindness appreciated — Children 
near Houndsditch — The Coster Boy — In Business for Himself — 
Chaffing a "Peeler" — Forgiveness a Rare Trait — The Coster Girl 

— Profound Ignorance — Forced to Cheat — "It's werry 'ard, isn't 
it, Sir?" — Shaming the Donkey — Costermonger's Education — 
Victoria Theatre — The Multitude of Boys and Girls — Excitements 
in the Gallery — " Pull hup that 'ere Vinder Blind " — " Light up the 
Moon " — Reception of a Tragedy — Whitechapel and Butchers' Row 

— Scene of a Saturday Night — Penny Gaff or Theatre — Dirt, Smoke, 
and Vulgarity — " 'Ere's yer Pannyrammar " — " Legitimit Dramay " 

— Ratcliffe Highway — Ballad Singers — Street Scenes — Catching 
Sailors — The Sailor's "Futtergruff " — Beer Houses and Gin Shops 

— Beggars and Thieves — Inside a Thieves' Lodging House — The 
Countryman's Adventure, 93 



CHAPTER VIL 

HAUNTS OF CRIME — THE CITY MISSIONARIES OF LONDON 
AND THEIR WORK. 

London essentially cosmopolitan — Byi'on's "Superb Menagerie" — 
Thackeray's "Vanity Fair" — Solitude in the Crowd — Munificent 
Charities — Cures for every lU — The Aristocracy — Extremes of 
Character — The Middle Class — Homes of Virtue — "The Bray of 
Exeter Hall" — City Missionaries — Heroism in "Little Plell" — 
"Never rob a Parson" — Training-Schools for Thieves — Practising 
at picking Pockets" — Perverse Judgments of Perverse Natures — 



CONTENTS. XI 

At Enmity with the "World — "The Gospel-Grinder" — Philosophy 
of a Boy-Thief — Selling "Hinguns" — A Rough-and-Ready Mis- 
sionary— "No Genus in picking a Pocket" — "Fear makes Cow- 
ards of us " — Religion hurts the Business — A Publican spoiled — 
Real Courage — The Sermon of the Converted Sweep — Parable 
of the Ignorant Cabman — Rough Welcome to the Preacher, . 110 



CHAPTER Yin. 

WAR WITH VICE — TEMPERANCE WORK AMONG THE DESTI- 
TUTE AND DEPRAVED. 

Street-Preachers — Fitness for their Work — A Striking Scene — 
" Music with no Melody, Laughter with no Mirth " — " Murder, Mur- 
der, Police ! " — The Street - Preacher and his Audience — Plain 
Preaching and its Power — " Reformatory and Refuge Union " — 
Thirty-four Benevolent Institutions under One Control — Good Work 
of a Brewer's Son — Lambeth Baths — Hoxton Hall — A Converted 
Building — William Noble's Mission — The Blue-Ribbon Army — 
An Audience of Reformed Men — "London Times" on Gough in 
Hoxton Hall — Report of the "Record" on the same Meeting — 
Four Great Branches of the Temperance Work — United Kingdom 
Alliance — Temperance in Politics — " Medical Temperance So- 
ciety " — " London Temperance Hospital'" — Eight Thousand Patients 
in Six Years — Medicine without Alcohol — Results, . . . 123 



CHAPTER IX. 

TRAGEDIES — THE SHADY SIDE OF LIFE. 

Power of Kindness — The Scotch Minister and the " Brute " — " I'll kick 
you down stairs " — " The most God-forsaken Wretch on Earth " — 
Perseverance rewarded — "Clothed and in his Right Mind" — The 
States-Prison Convict — " The Cold, Glittering Eye " — The Hard 
Heart melted — The Mother's Influence — Scene in Gray's-Inn 
Lane — The Excited Crowd — The Tattered Group, and Death 
among them — The "Bullet-headed Man" — "'Ere's a Swell vants 
to know vat's the Matter " — Alone with the Mob — Striking Experi- 
ence with a London Crowd of the Worst Characters — An Easy Es- 
cape — Men beyond Sympathy — The Toad in the Stone — The 
Murderer in the Portland Prison — Celebrating his Release by a 
Booze — Human Parasites — Trading on the Benevolence and Gen- 
erosity of the Soft-hearted — Tramps — Soup-Kitchens — Getting 
Something for Nothing — Able-bodied " Sponges on the Gener- 
ous " — " Loafing Gentry " and Shirks, . . ' . . .135 



Xll CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER X. 

AMONG THE POOR — THE TRAFFIC IN DRINK — SOCIETY'S 

CURSE. 

Sunday-Morning Breakfasts for Waifs — Homeless Multitudes — A 
Strange Audience — Economizing for a Drink — The Man who 
loved Beer — His heroic Self-Defence — A Pint every Two Hours 
— " Breakfast for Nothing " — Thirty Years lost — Drink, the Cause 
and Curse of Poverty — Soup-Kitchen in Glasgow — Free Sunday- 
Morning Breakfasts in Edinburgh — Seventeen Hundred Victims of 
Drink — "We get Hot Victuals at Home" — "Ducks and Green 
Peas" — "Good Times" turned to "Hard Times" — Extravagance 
of the Poor — Satire of " Punch " — The Irish Famine — Distilleries 
at Work — "Irish Distress, Irish Drinking" — Burton-on-Trent — 
Bass's Beer-Mills — Bass's Annual Beer-Profits £450,000 — The Drink 
Bill — London Paper upon Mr. Bass, M.P., . . . . 147 



CHAPTER XL 

LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY — HOMELESS HOMES —DARKNESS 

AND LIGHT. 

Homes of the London Poor — Cellar Dwellings — Description of a 
Court in Gray's-Inn Lane — King Cholera — Horrible Filth — 
"Work in the Five Dials" — Dark Pictures of Life — Tour of In- 
spection with Hon. Maude Stanley — Visiting Low Localities — My 
Audience — A Motley Crowd — Coffee-Palace opened by Dean Stan- 
ley—The Bright Side — The Honest Girl in the Thieves' Court — 
The Newspaper- Vender and the Pocket-Book — "A Real Case" — 
Artful Dodges — The Workman's Independence — "Principled agin 
taking Money " — Trust and Patience of the Poor — Life among the 
Lowly — The Crippled Saint — Blue Skies reflected from Muddy 
Pools — The Story of Thomas Wright — A Devoted Son — Exam- 
ples of Nobility in Humble Life — Demands for Human Sympa- 
thy, 156 



CHAPTER XII. 

OPPOSITION TO PROGRESS — THE WORLD'S BENEFACTORS, 
AND WHAT THEY HAVE ENDURED. 

Great Discoverers and Inventors — The Opposition they have met — 
Satire upon Dr. Jenner — An Amusing Picture — Employing the 
Assistance of tlj§ Devil — The "Swing Swang" — Practice often 



CONTEN^TS. XIU 

against Theories — "Horses going to the Dogs" — Liverpool & 
Manchester Railway — Railway Engines and Sheep's Wool — Alarm- 
ing Predictions — The Old Coachman — Heroism for the Truth's 
Sake — Puritanic Strictness — The New-England Sabbath — "Strain- 
ing at a Gnat " — Drunk on the Sabbath — Whistling for a Dog — 
Wife-thrashing and Sabbath-breaking — True Liberty and Sunday 
Trains — Testimonies to the Christian Sabbath : Macaulay, Black- 
stone, Adam Smith, Webster, Theodore Parker, &o. — Holiday not 
Holy Day — Jurists and the Sabbath — Physicians and the Sabbath 
— Statesmen and the Sabbath — The Old Book — Liberty under 
Law, 167 



CHAPTER XIII. 

MANLINESS AND MORAL PRINCIPLE — INDUSTRY VURSUS 

IDLENESS. 

False Ideas of Manliness — Physical Strength no Test — Lord Bacon a 
Swindler — Fast Living, cowardly — Horse-Racing and Prize-Fight- 
ing — Manliness is Godliness — False Opinions scorn Labor — " Only 
a Mechanic" — The Fashion of Useless People — "Only a Third- 
class Carriage " — Story concerning Lady Charlotte Guest — The 
Cinder-hole — Labor and Etiquette — Idle Men mischievous — The 
Dandy — Consequences of a Useless Life — Career of Beau Brum- 
mell — The Fop in a Breach-of-Promise Suit — Influence of Society 
upon us — Example better than Precept — Value of a Noble Life — 
Ministers and the Half-price — Genius no Substitute for Moral Prin- 
ciple — Bm-ns's Perverted Genius — The Painter Haydon, . .178 



CHAPTER XIV. 

HAPPINESS AND TRUE HEROISM — GOLD, WHAT IT DOES 
AND WHAT IT DOES NOT BRING. 

Signing away Liberty — False Ideas of Happiness — Rothschild — John 
Jacob Astor — A Girl's Idea of Perfect Happiness — The Snow- 
blocked Train — Lord Chesterfield's Confession — Irishman's Com- 
plaint of the Moon — "If" — The Two Buckets — Sir John Sinclair 
and the Laborer — "ANew Way to pay Old Debts" — The History 
of Misers — Experience of a Millionnaire — "The Happiest Fellows 
in the World " — Anecdote of John Wilson — Happiness among the 
Poor — Lord Braco and the Farthing — The Celebrity and his Hat — 
The Burden of a Debt — The Clergyman and the Collection — Dodging 
Creditors — Indebtedness degrades — Extravagance '— Church Debts 
— Sacrifice for Others — Moral Heroism — Victory over Self, . 187 



XIV COKTEI^TS. 



CHAPTER XV. 

KNOWLEDGE AND CUEIOSITY — ABSURD BLUNDERS AND 
LAUGHABLE MISTAKES. 

What is Knowledge? — Ignorance with a Library — Wisdom is applied 
Knowledge — George Cruikshank the Simon Pure — Blunders in 
Spelling — " Preshus Sole " — Laughable Mistakes — The Deacon 
who thought he could preach — Anecdote of Robert Hall — Self- 
knowledge and Physical Health — Knowing Others — "Brass" no 
Test of Character — Misjudging Others — Knowledge through His- 
tory — Goodness — Mental Cultivation and Moral Corruption — In- 
quisitiveness — " Funnels of Conversation " — How a Man lost his 
Leg — Anecdote of John Randolph — Misapplied Labor — Dinner 
and Duel — How to collect a Crowd — Van Amburg's Lion — Feats 
of Legerdemain — Sir Charles Napier and the Indian Juggler — Ig- 
norance and Superstition — Whimsical Vagaries — Senseless " Omens " 
— Sowing for the Harvest — Immortality revealed — De Quincey 
upon the Present — Faith a Necessity — The Story of Poor Joe, 202 



CHAPTER XVI. 

COMEDIES— THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF LIFE. 

The Art of Putting Things — Illustrative Anecdotes — Macklin at the 
Theatre — The Smoker on a Coach — Mr. Parker's Preaching — Man- 
aging Others — The Scolding Schoolmaster — The Inhuman Teacher 
— AjDpeals to Plonor better than Brutality — The Model Principal — 
The College President's Lecture on Spontaneous Combustion — The 
College President guarding his New Roost — The Midnight Ride — 
Acknowledgment of Errors — Bonnie Christie — Matter-of-fact Peo- 
ple — "Six-penny Caliker" — No Devils ever cast out of a Man — 
The Quaker's Answer — The Physician and the Stone-Mason — A 
Digression, but not an Argument — Henderson the Actor — Differ- 
ence between Settling down and Settling up — Wit of Dr. Snmuel 
Cox — The Conceited Count — Practical Jokes — My Sacramento Ac- 
quaintance, 225 

CHAPTER XVII. 

VICTIMS OF DRINK— SCENES FROM LIFE. 

Beer as a Beverage — Beer Drunkenness among Women — Great Brit- 
ain's Curse — " Doctored " Beer — The Inside of a London Gin-Palace 
- What is "All Sorts " ? — Kinahan's L. L. — The Landlord — The 
Bar- Maid — The Customers — Life in the Bar-Room — Disgraceful 



CONTENTS. XV 

Scenes — *' Fair Play " — What the *' London Times " says — A " Gen- 
teel" Gin-Palace — Rev. Wm. Arnot on the Liquor Traffic — The 
Fratricide — A Hardened Woman ' — The Gambler's Suicide — A Hor- 
rible Sight — Suicide of McConnell — The Blood-Stains on the Floor — 
The Meanest Man in the World — The Rumseller's Bargain — Result 
of the Trade — Dr. Guthrie's Testimony — That of Canon Farrar — 
" Fruits of the Traffic " — A Ghastly Story of the Prisoner at Dart- 
mouth — The Convict's Story — Rum and Murder — Remorse — Wait- 
ing for Death, 242 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

DESPAIR AND DEATH — STORIES OF RUINED HOMES AND 
BROKEN HEARTS. 

The Prisoner's Testimony — How Prisons are filled — The Offspring of 
Drink — Appalling Statistics — The Inhuman Father — Selling a Child 
for Two Pairs of Stockings — Getting drunk with the Proceeds — The 
Drunken Mother and her Dying Children — An Affecting Stoiy — 
Sufferings in the Best Circles — A Terrible Story — The Brutal Hus- 
band and his Dead Wife — Horrible Brutality — Truth stranger than 
Fiction — The Clergyman's Suicide — The Lawyer's Despair and 
Death — Rum unmakes the Gentleman — A Dreadful Domestic Scene 

— The Beaten and Disfigured Wife — Destruction of Property — The 
Mountaineer's Home — Rum-Madness — Driven from Home — The 
Night on the Mountain — Terrible Destitution and Sufferings — 
The Desolate Home — Enticed to a Grog-Shop — A Drunken Sot — 
The Winter's Night — Eaten by Swine, 259 

CHAPTER XDC. 

FOOTPRINTS OF RUM— STORIES OF RUINED HOMES AND 
BROI^N HEARTS (CONTINUED). 

A Cry from Connecticut — Drunkenness worse than Death — Five Days 
with Delirium Tremens — Hope deferred — The Drunkard's Adopted 
Child — The Murdered Babe — The Wife shielding the Murderer, only 
to be murdered herself — The Murderer's Suicide — Last Scenes in the 
Domestic Tragedy — The Drunkard and his Dead Wife — The Drunken 
Clergyman preaching Old Sermons — Stealing Postage-Stamps to buy 
. Rum — Another Clergyman ruined by Drink — An Unfeeling Father 

— Stealing his Little Boy's Shoes to buy Drink — The Drunkard's Cry 

— Pity for the Victims — A Blasted Life — The Drunkard's " Ode to 
the Departing Year " — " What of the Ship?"— The Redeemed 
Man's Narrative — Evils of Social Drinking — Bitter Recollections — 
Maddening Desire for Drink — What is to be done? — The Dram- 
Shops of Birmingham — Sunday Drinking — Terrible Results, . 275 



XVI CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XX. 

"SECRETS" AND "TRICKS" OF THE LIQUOR TRADE — A 
GLANCE BEHIND THE SCENES. 

Rum is Rum the World over — Drunken Mohammedan is said to have 
"gone to Jesus" — Speech of Canon Farrar — Ludicrous Side of the 
Question — The Connoisseurs of Liquors — Wine-Drinkers hum- 
bugged — The Secret of Success in the Manufacture of Liquors — 
— Ingredients — How "Imported Cognac Brandy" is made — How 
Schiedam Schnapps and Common Gin are made — Champagne Re- 
ceipt — " Native Catawba Wines " made without Grapes — " Fine Old 
Port" — Receipts for making Porter — "Ale " good to sleep on; how 
made — To the Uninitiated — How to bottle neatly — Sugar of Lead 
as a Sweetener — Filthiness no Hindrance to the Drinker — The 
Effect of these Revelations — The Slaves of Fashion, . . . 290 



CHAPTER XXL 
SOME OF MY EXPERIENCES WITH BRAZEN-FACED PEOPLE. 

The Life of a Public Man — • Peculiar Annoyances — Kind Treatment of 
the Press — " Interviewing " — An Unfortunate Little Notice — "John 
B. Gough lying dangerously ill " — Mistakes in reporting Lectures — 
Amusing Specimen — Applications for Help — Begging Letter- Writ- 
ers — Tramps preferable to these — Extracts from Begging-Letters — 
Young Man's Strange Request for Fifteen Hundred Dollars — Re- 
quest for One Thousand Dollars — What the Lord is reported to have 
said — One Thousand Dollars wanted to educate two Nieces — "I am 
taken in" — Notes and Promises to Pay — A New Method — A"Cu- 
rious Plan of Professionals — Begging " Mediums " — Letter purport- 
ing to come from my Mother — An Incident in Scotland, . . 304 



CHAPTER XXII. 

AMUSING EXPERIENCES WITH LETTER-WRITERS, BEGGARS, 
AND ASPIRANTS FOR FAME. 

Letter- Writers and their Wants — A Lady "wishes to get married;" 
full Particulars — Specimen of a Class of Oddities — What "the 
Simple Son of a Carpenter" desires — An Unappreciated Benefactor 
of his Country — A "Big Thing" to be accomplished — Applications 
for Old Lectures — The Ambitious Young Man with a "Hobby" — 
An Aspirant for Fame — NewsjDaper Man wishes two "Worn-out" 
'Lectures — Request for a "Moddle" Lecture — Receipt for a "Mod- 
die " Lecture — A Few Hints to the Ambitious — Requests for Auto- 



conte:n^ts. xvii 

graphs — Levying Black-mail — Take Warning — Dr. Chalmers on 
Autographs — Demand for Photographs — " Very like a Bore " — Not 
limited to Friends — Comical Arrangements of these Pictures — Side 
by Side with the Gorilla, 315 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

UNENDUEABLE BORES — MY EXPERIENCES WITH THEM — 
AEFECTATION AND " STYLE" 

A Class of Bores — An Aggravating Case — Its Sequel — Incident of a 
Lecture — Two Hingham Callers — The Brilliant Young Llan in a 
Joking Mood — The Conundrum, " Canaan " — " Old Dog Tray" — 
President Woolsey and the Joking Boy — Cultivation of Affectation — 
Indifference — Imitating Enthusiasm — Affectation turning into a 
" Lithp " — Unstylish Persons in Style — Tarts *' Fourpence a-Piece, 
Ma'am " — Late-Comers in Church and Lecture — " Who art thou? " 
— An Officer of Her Majesty's Service — Making Puns — Dealing 
with the Superlative in Conversation — Common Mistakes — Petty 
Expressions — " Lor', how cunning ! " — Exaggerations in Speech — 
Trivial Faults mar the Enjoyments of Life, . . • . 328 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE SPEAKER AND HIS AUDIENCE —ANECDOTES AND INCI- 
DENTS. 

Dread of an Audience — Personal Physical Suffering — Mutual Sympa- 
thy required — Incident in the Church of Dr. Joseph Parker — Efforts 
at Reading a Hymn — Experience with President Finney at Aber- 
deen — The Minister's " Supplication " — Involuntary Selection of Per- 
sons in every Audience — My Feelings on the Platform — Vivid Rec- 
ollections — My Stolid Hearer — Method of Preparing Lectures — 
Five Thousand Temperance Addresses in Seventeen Years — Inter- 
view with the Actor Macready — His Method — My Early Experi- 
ence with Books — "Rollins' Ancient History," and "Putnam's Li- 
brary " — My Earlier Addresses — Gathering and Using Materials — 
Incident at Rhinebeck — Illustration from Niagara Falls — Taking 
an Awful Risk before an Audience — Taking down the Scaffolding 
from my Temple — An Interesting Experience — " Gough is a Story- 
teller " — A Silly Charge — The Wonderful Story — " Gough a Re- 
tailer of Anecdotes " — My Sense of the Ridiculous — Value of Inci- 
dents, 341 

1 



XVm COlSJTEl^TS. 



CHAPTER XXy. 

WHAT OPPOSITION WE MEET — FALSE CHARGES AND MIS- 
REPRESENTATIONS. 

•* Goiigh not a Thinker " — Unexplainable Knowledge — Plagiarism 
and its Meaning — Satire on Plagiarism of *' The Little Busy- 
Bee " — Gough's Apostrophe to Water, and that by Paul Denton 
— History of its Inception — Reply to a Shameless Attack — In- 
creased Consumption of Beer — Our Pullman Cars and Liquor- 
drinking — Increase of Intemperance in Thirty Years — Worces- 
ter as an Example — 1843 and 1880 — Washingtonianism — Drink- 
ing among Ministers — Drinking among Women — Murder as ex- 
cited by Beer — Hereditary Effects of Beer-drinking — Paper cir- 
culated by Life Insurance Men — Reported Interview with the Oxford 
Students — The True Story, and the Scene — The Happy Conclu- 
sion, 356 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

ON THE PLATFORM — PERSONAL EXPERIENCES AS A PUBLIC 

SPEAKER. 

The Judge's Speech — Power of his Example — " Give it to him. Old 
Man " — Self-Possession necessary under Emban-assments — Man in 
Faneuil Hall, and Story for his Benefit — Woman and her Crying 
Child— "Did he lose his Eggs?" — One Handkerchief for Two — 
Power of Audience over the Speaker — The Man with the Newspaper 
— How the whispering Young Ladies were stopped — Cultivation of 
the Voice — Power of Sarcasm — The Donkey at Snowdon — Sar- 
casm of O'Connell on Benjamin Disraeli — John Randolph and the 
"Vacant" Seat — Tom Marshall's "Demijohn" all but the Straw — 
Personal Experience under Trying Circumstances — " Here's one of 
yom- Cigars, Mr. Gough " — Quotations from Locke and Walter Scott 
which were not Quotations, 370 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

MEN I HAVE KNOWN — PULPIT AND OTHER ORATORS OF 
GREAT BRITAIN. 

Public Speakers — Lectures I have heard — Personal Experience as to 
Public Occasions — Ministerial and other Acquaintances — Thomas 
Guthrie, D.D. — The Audience — Guthrie's Philanthropy — Llis Ap- 
pearance in the Pulpit — Not a "Weeping Preacher" — My first 



CONTENTS. XIX 

Impressions — Power of his Utterance — William Arnot, D.D. -Jt. 
Ai3pearance andManner — " Figs of Thistles " — Newman Hall, D.D. — 
Lincoln Tower of Christ Chm'ch — Mr. Martin of Westminster Chapel — 
Strange Texts — " Man of One Book " — Cowper's Model Preacher — 
Some of my Chairmen — Lord Shaftesbury — John Bright — Bright's 
Speech at Henry Darby's Feast — Sir Fitzroy Kelley : his Style and 
Manner — Joseph Parker, D.D. — Immense Power — Pulpit Apolo- 
getic Manners out of Place — Dr. Parker at Home, and as a Preacher 
— First Impressions of the Preacher — Vividness of Description — 
*' God's Testimony against Sin" — Sins of Presumption — Where do 
Texts come from? „ 384 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

MEN I HAVE KNOWN (CONTINUED) — SPURGEON — AMERICAN 

CLERGYMEN. 

C. H. Spurgeon: Early History — His First Sermon — "Who is this 
Spurgeon? " — Park Chapel and Exeter Hall — The Metropolitan Tab- 
ernacle — Publication of Fifteen Hundred Sermons — The Man a 
Miracle — Public Institutions for Missions and Benevolence — The 
Beautiful Work of Mrs. Spurgeon — Pedigree of Pulpit Story — Min- 
isters must be " Thick-Skinned " — Anecdotes — Spurgeon a Total- Ab- 
stainer — Boys' Orphanage at Stockwell — Reception of Mr. Spurgeon 
— The Little Consumptive — True Greatness — Sources of Power as a 
Preacher — The Book of Books — Comments on Proverbs — Tale- 
Bearers and Dissemblers — Mr. Spurgeon and the Dog — Edward 
Norris Kirk, D.D. — Oratory and Elocution — Our Last Interview — 
Elocution sometimes a Hindrance — George H. Gould, D.D. — Rev. 
David O. Mears —William M. Taylor, D.D. — Power with the Script- 
ures — Helpful Themes — Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D. — Preacher and 
Correspondent, 400 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

OLD-TIME AND MODERN PREACHERS — WORDS WITH AND 
WITHOUT SENSE. 

Sheridan Knowles — Varied Pulpit Ministrations — Old-time Discourses 
— Quaint old Books — Travesty on the Little Busy Bee — The Pla- 
giarized Sermon — Sermon on the Slothful Man — " Awake Pesaltery- 
tree and Harp" — "Who were the Patriarchs ?" — Grandiloquent 
Oratory — Exordium upon Intemperance — " Wrecked on the Tem- 
pestuous Sea" — The baneful Upas-Tree — The Drunkard's Career 



XX CO]SrTE:N^TS. 

on the Broad Road — Peroration — The Nobleman's Speech and Ob- 
servations — Speech of an Agitator — " Bruce the King of England " 
— " Battles of Greasy and Potters " — " Pass round the Hat," . 421 



CHAPTER XXX. 

CHURCH SERVICES — IRREVERENCE, BUFFOONERY, AND CANT. 

Ridiculous Side of Negi'o Preaching — Absurd Mistakes — The Planta- 
tion Preacher — " Glad Tidings and Hallelujah " — The Dirty Boy — 
Church Services — Singing in Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle ; and in 
Dr. Parker's Church — The D. D.'s Stratagem — The Scotchman's 
Experience — " Don't sing, Sir " — Hymns of my Boyhood — Muti- 
lated Hymns — Irreverence of Hymnology — Revivalists' Buffoonery 
— The Name above every Name — Christian Irreverence — Pious 
Cant — More Puritanism needed — The Christian Ideal and its Oppo- 
site — Possible Futm^e Pulpit Notices, 431 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

MY VIEWS ON THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION. 

Drunkenness a Sin and a Disease — Is moderate Drinking a Sin? — My 
First Intoxication — Rum and Water in a Temperance Meeting — 
"Gentlemanly Inebriation" — The Intoxicated Boy — Pathology of 
Drunkenness — Testimony of Dr. Richardson — Destructive Effects 
of Alcohol on the Mind — Statement of Joseph Cook — Legend of 
the Triple Choice — The Sin is in the Cause, and not the Effect — 
Statements of Wm. Arnot, D.D. — Two Ways of keeping a Nation 
sober — Total Abstinence as an Unfailing Remedy — Prevention 
better than Cure — The Giant's Hand — Drunkenness unnatural — 
Testimony of Distinguished Physicians — Case of the Hon. E. C. Han- 
negan — His former Useful Life — The Terrible Fall and Dissipation 
— The Murder, . . . 443 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

TEMPERANCE AND "THE GRACE OF GOD" — MY OWN EXPE- 
RIENCE AND THAT OF OTHERS. 

Is Reform possible without Religion? — Grounds of Appeal — Total 
Abstinence does not renew Nature — My First Pledge without "the 
Help of God " — The Memory of the Garret Bedi'oom — My Second 



CONTEXTS. XXI 

Pledge under the Grace of God — Does the Grace of God take away 
the Appetite? — Poison kills the Christian and the Hottentot — The 
Grace of God includes Voluntary Total Abstinence — Is the Drunk- 
ard's Appetite left? — My Disgust at the Drink no Proof that Appe- 
tite is gone — Communion Wine ; its Effect — Wines An Cooking — 
Religion removes the Desire, but not the Appetite — Self-Deception 
on this Point — Thrilling Letter of a Clergyman — The Converted 
Rum-Seller's Experience — The Fallen Minister — The only Safety is 
in Total Abstinence — " The Pledge and the Cross," . . . 455 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

MODERATE DRINKING AND TOTAL ABSTINENCE. 

The Moderate Drinker — The Moderate Drinker of Stockholm — Gough 
and his Moderate-drinking Friend — Dr. B. W. Richardson on Mod- 
erate Drinking — Alcohol not included in the Scheme of Life — The 
Most Helpless Period passed without it — The Four Stages of Life — 
Voice of Science — Stimulation Harmful to Health — Foods and Alco- 
hol — " The Alcoholic Stages " — " The Devil and the Peacock " — 
Wine and Civilization — Wine-drinking Nations — Wine only Dirty 
Water — Total Abstinence for the Sake -of Others — Abusing the 
"Moderate Drinker" — A Dinner without Wine — The Right, the 
Wrong, the Doubtful — A Touching Story — The Idolized Son — Wine 
at New Year's Calls — Misnamed Friends, 470 



CHAPTER XXXrV. 

TEMPERANCE AND THE BIBLE — MY VIEWS ON THE SCRIPT- 
URE QUESTION — INCIDENTS. 

Assistance demanded from all Sides — Charity — Tlie Truth our Weapon 

— Scamp's Tavern — "'The Seven Last Plagues' for Sale here" — 
Specimen of Liquor-Sellers' Work — The Wine of Scripture and of 
Commerce — Conflicting Authorities — One of the " Doubtful Dispu- 
tations " — Dr. Norman Ker's Statement — The Hieroglyphical Argu- 
ment — Assumed Biblical Commands against Strong Drink — Dr. 
Samuel H. Cox and J. Fenimore Cooper upon Bible Miracles — Absa- 
lom's Hair — What Fish swallowed Jonah — Good Men who endeavor 
to sanction Drinking — How to answer these Men — Advice to the 
Reformed Man - - Let Arguments alone — The Outcast's Conversion 

— Many Churches unsafe for the Reformed Drunkard, . . 481 



XXll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

WAR WITH DRINK — TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS — WOM- 
AN'S WORK AND INFLUENCE. 

The National Temperance Society — Women's Christian Temperance 
Union — The Blue and Red Ribbon Armies — American Temperance 
Society — Growth of the Work — Washingtonian Movement — Grow- 
ing Unpopularity of Washingtonianism — Favorite Epithets — "We 
don't want any Religion in the Movement " — Poor Tom Marshall — 
Danger to Reform Clubs — Sympathy demanded for the Lost — Give 
the Reformed Man Work — The Temperance Hall a Place of Safety 
— The Dirt and Discomforts of some so-called Temperance Hotels — 
Personal Experience — The "Model" and "Central" Coffee Houses 
of Philadelphia — The Medical Question — Rum by the Keg — Physi- 
cian giving Poison for Health — Heroism and Fanaticism — " Stand to 
your Principle," 494 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 
STRIKING EXPERIENCES. 

Compensations of Old Age — This Young Man — The Old Warrior — 
Amusing Peculiarities of Public Life — The Liverpool Barber — " 'Enery, 
sweep up this 'Air " — Great Changes — Reforms — Improvements — 
Children are Forces — An Important Question — Casket and Jewel — 
Testimonial presented — Boys' Work Twenty-five Years ago — The 
Results — Drunkard's Child — " My Little Testament " — Testament 
sold for Whiskey — " God be merciful! " — " Evil Habits " — Custom 
and Habit — No Man lost on a Straight Road — A Good Resolution — 
Hughl^inier, 508 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

LAST GLEANINGS. 

My First Visit to the Theatre — Booth and Hamblin — " Apostate," and 
" Review " — The Old Bowery — My Passion for the Stage — Interview 
with a Manager — Comic Song at the Chatham — Persevering Efforts 
to be an Actor — The Summit of Ambition — The Old Lion of Boston 
— Charles Thorn — Charles Eaton — " Roll him in and tap him " — 
Tinsel and Sham — My Disenchantment — Thanks that my Way was 
blocked — Power to overcome — Coleridge — A Good Impulse — 
" Art thee crazy, Lad? " — The First Sermon — Paying Debts like a 
Christian — The Last Race — Retrospection — Contrasts — Lessons 
learned — Encouragements — Last Words, .... 526 



SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 



CHAPTER L 



LOOKma BACK OVER LIFE. 



Ketrospection and Reflection — " The Chief End of Man " — The 

Secret of Happiness — Experience, a Teacher — The Guiding Hand 
— Trifling Incidents and Momentous Consequences — My Father in 
the English Army — Famine and Despair — Lying down to die — 
Struggling back to Life — Looking for Work — The Office Boy — 
The Shop Boy — Power of Circumstances in shaping Character — 
Man, Arbiter of his own Fortune — Knotty Problems — Dr. Wm. M. 
Taylor^s Advice — Unbelief no Refage — Boast of Napoleon — Cir- 
cumstances not despotic — Influence of Early Training — My "First 
Shop " — Downward Road easy — Turn in the Tide — " Man's Ex- 
tremity, God's OiDportunity " — Seven Years' Night — "Morning Light " 
-^ The Day — Striving upwards — Aim of this Volume, . Page 23 



HEIST the noon of life is passed, and 
the shadows begin to lengthen, as 
the bustle and worry and excite- 
ment are less active, we look back 
and ask the question, "Have we 
f}f^ lived the threescore years?" It 
is worth while to remember, as 
years increase, that our lives are not 
measured by the years we have existed, 
but by the years we have lived. The time that has 
been misapplied, devoted to mere self-indulgence, to 
the gratification of unworthy appetites, is lost, and 

23 




24 PATCHWORK. 

time lost is not lived; so that the question comes^ 
How much have I lived? not, How many years have 
I existed? Fuller says, "He lives long that lives 
well." Seneca says, " To live well is a greater benefit 
than life itself." 

There is a I'ight ring in the good old question and 
answer in the Catechism — "What is the chief end 
of man? To glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." 
If we could comprehend at our starting-point more 
fully all that is involved in " glorifying God," that it 
is to be in entire harmony not only with eternal wis- 
dom and beneficent law, but especially with their 
Source and Author, surely our lives might be filled 
to the brim with happy usefulness, and move on with 
no more friction or jar than do the processions of the 
seasons. 

With the conviction that often the experience of 
years may be helpful to the young, and hoping that 
the reflections and recollections of a life that has been 
for many years so fully among men may be profitable 
to those who have all of life before them, I venture 
to gather the incidents and experiences of these years, 
and, without apology, present them to those who may 
choose to accept them. A writer has said, " There 
are few minds but might furnish some instruction and 
entertainment out of their scraps, their odds and ends 
of thought. They who cannot weave a uniform web 
may at least produce a piece of patchwork which may 
be useful, and not without a charm of its own." So 
I venture on my patchwork by jotting down obser- 
vations, thoughts, and conclusions, gathered from 
wayside opportunities and sources in the course of 
a long experience. 

Shakspeare asserts : " There is a divinity that shapes 



MY father's severe EXPERIENCE. 25 

our ends, rough-hew them as we will." Canon Farrar 
says : " The overruling providence of God is so clearly 
marked in the progress of human events that the 
Christian hardly needs any further proof that there 
is a hand that guides." More incisive yet are the 
wisest man's words : "A man's heart deviseth his way, 
but the Lord directeth his steps." All our personal 
experiences reveal to us the fact of an overruling 
Providence ; that we are not the creatures of chance. 
A very trifling incident may change the whole course 
of our lives. 

During a retreat of the English army, when closely 
pursued by Marshal Soult, about the year 1809, my 
father, then about thirty years of age, was a soldier 
in the Fifty-second Light Lifantry. He had been 
slightly wounded in the chest, and though his wound 
was not considered fatal, it was painful and irritating. 
The army had suffered fearfully from exposure, fam- 
ine, and the heavy fatigues of an active campaign. I 
well remember my father saying to me, " John, you 
will never know what hunger is till you feel the two 
sides of your stomach grinding together." In that 
campaign, men mad with hunger fought like wolves 
over the half-decayed hoof of a bullock; and often 
when one of these poor animals, overcome with weak- 
ness and starvation, was staggering as if about to 
fall, the ready knife was applied to the throat, and 
the fainting soldiers, eagerly catching the blood in 
their hands, and hardly waiting for it to congeal, made 
it take the place of food. In this retreat, the Fifty- 
seconcl Regiment became — to use the American term 
— demoralized ; and while they staggered on, my 
father threw himself out of the ranks, under the 
shadow of a large rock, to die: he. could go no 



26 rmsT thought of ameeica. 

farther. Lying there, he took from his inner pocket a 
hymn-book (which I have to-day, with all the marks 
of its seventy years upon it), and began to read the 
hymn in which is the verse — 

" When in the solemn hour of death 
I own Thy just decree, 
Be this the prayer of my last breath : 
O Lord, remember me." 

He must die — it seemed inevitable — though far from 
home, in a strange land. He was a Christian, and 
endeavored to prepare himself for the change. Sud- 
denly a large bird of prey, Avith a red neck growing 
out of a ruffle of feathers, came swooping along, 
almost brushing my father's body with its wings; 
then circling up, he alighted on the point of rock, 
and turned his blood-red eye on his intended victim. 

As my father saw that horrible thing watching, and 
waiting to tear him in pieces even before life was ex- 
tinct, it so filled him with horror and disgust that he 
cried, " I cannot endure this : it is too terrible. When 
I am unable to drive that fearful thing away, it will 
be tearing my flesh. I cannot endure it ! " He rose 
to his feet and fell, then crawled and struggled 
away, till at length he crept into a poor hut, found 
safety, and soon after joined his regiment. Though 
he was very, very ill after that frightful episode, he 
recovered, and died in 1871, at the remarkable age of 
ninety-four years. 

I enjoy tracing some of these experiences in my 
own life. When a boy doing errands for a family 
about to emigrate to America, the lady, who was in a 
very good humor, said, "John, how would you like to 
go to America with us?" It was said jestingly, yet 



POSSESSION OF A WILL. 27 

that playful word grew into the decision that made 
me an American citizen. 

In 1832 or 1833, two boys sought employment at 
the same establishment, in the same week. One was 
duly engaged as errand-boy in the office, the other 
as errand-boy in the bookbindery. The first was 
thrown into good society, among refined, Christian 
people, and brought under restraining influences. / The 
other was surrounded by an entirely different atmos- 
phere — nothing elevating, very little that was "pure, 
lovely, or of good report." The office-boy, encouraged 
by good advisers, grew in the right direction, obtauied 
an education, became a minister, a professor in a col- 
lege, a celebrated Greek scholar, and died leaving 
behind him a splendid reputation. The shop-boy, 
with no restraining inffiiences, naturally impulsive 
and yielding, went sadly astray, until he became as 
near an outcast as a 3^oung man could well become, 
with only a limited education, while all the natural 
powers God had given him were running to waste. 
For years he groped in darkness and almost despair. 
One of these became the Rev. Dr. McClintock; the 
other is writing these lines to-day. 

It is true, as the prophet records — and we would 
not have it otherwise — that " the way of man is not 
in himself; " yet it is undoubtedly a fact that a man is 
in a great degree the arbiter of his own fortune. I 
know I have a will to do, or not to do. Locke says, 
" We are born with powers and faculties capable of 
almost anything, but it is the exercise of these powers 
and faculties that gives us ability and skill in any- 
thing." We are conscious of possessing a will that 
can consent or refuse to exercise these faculties. 

I know that here we trench on a great mystery, 



28 ^^I MAKE CIRCUMSTAISrCES." 

God's plan and man's will — a mystery we have nei- 
ther skill nor ability to unravel. I remember once, 
when confronting some of these knotty problems, — 
such as the origin of evil, and the eternity of sin, — 
I went to my dear friend Dr. Wm. M. Taylor, of 'New 
York, and asked him to give me some light. Putting 
his hand on my shoulder, he said, " John, lay these 
things on the shelf. We shall see light by and by, 
when He shall reveal to us the deep things of His 
wisdom." So I have come to the conclusion that my 
great aim must be to bring my will into submission 
to His, in perfect harmony; believing that all I do not 
know now I shall know in His right time, who knows 
the end from the beginning. I therefore seek to put 
away all that childish rubbish that hedges up a belief 
in what I cannot understand ; inasmuch as the insolu- 
ble perplexities of unbelief are far greater than any 
that hover about faith and trust in God. 

I^fapoleon Bonaparte, when intoxicated with suc- 
cess and at the height of his power, is reported to 
have said, '^ I make circumstances." Let Moscow, 
Elba, Waterloo, and St. Helena, that rocky isle where 
he was caged until he fretted his life away, testify to 
his utter helplessness in his humiliating downfall. 

We cannot create circumstances, but we can make 
the best of them when they come. Their power is 
not despotic, and, by God's help and our own en- 
deavor, we may make them our servants. How much 
of the success or failure in life depends on the man- 
ner in which we are able to deal with the circum- 
stances of our early life! Cowper has written that 
" The color of our whole life is generally such as the 
first three or four years in which we are our own mas- 
ter, make it." The results of early training, reading, 



MIRACLE OF MORNIN^G. 29 

study, self-control or indulgence, are rarely overcome. 
In very early life. Little's poems were Lord Byron's 
favorite study. " Heigho ! " he exclaimed in a letter 
dated 1820, " I believe all the mischief I have ever 
done or sung, has been owing to that confounded 
book." As I look back to the early years of my life, 
when at the age of fourteen I was my own master, — 
so far as the control of my leisure was involved, — 
I attribute much of the influence leading me in the 
wrong direction to the surroundings of that first shop 
into which I entered. Mark, I do not wish to excuse 
or palliate any wrong into which I drifted, but simply 
to state the fact that a boy, coming fresh from the 
country and the restraints of home, untainted, igno- 
rant of the world, and " green," I was brought into 
daily companionship with men acquainted with, and 
many of them adepts in the vices of a lai^ge city. 
There I saw the mystery of wickedness; there I 
learned to like the drink; there I became soiled; 
there I took the wrong direction, — and thus seeds 
were sown that brought a bitter fruit and a wretched 
harvesting. I will not linger on this page, only to say 
that I began the drifting into darkness, hopelessness, 
and the sunless gloom of moral night; but "there 
is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the 
flood, leads on to fortune," and a kind Providence 
was bringing me unconsciously to it. " Man's extrem- 
ity is God's opportunity;" and in the darkest hour of 
my life, — no light, no sun, no stars, not a gleam of 
hope, no expectation of a change, only a dreary and 
restless waiting for the end, — the miracle of morn- 
ing came to me, beginning with the dawn. 

When the night has reached its limit, and its visions 
are broken, how great is the change made by the first 



30 SUN^LIGHT ON THE HILLS. 

line of morning light! Most things are more clearly 
defined by the light; but in the experience of many 
the welcome and unwelcome visitations of night have 
only vanishing outlines, and lose shape as morning 
grows into day. 

Thirty-eight years ago ushered in the dawn of 
such a morning to me. The night had been one 
of seven years' length, and filled with murky condi- 
tions; but though clouds were not absent from my 
horizon, the break of a new day had certainly come, 
and a total change in the direction of my life's jour- 
ney must be taken. Henceforth, though the path 
promised to be steep, I resolved to reach higher 
levels, and get away from the poisoned air and 
treacherous ooze of that deep morass into which the 
seven years' night had led me. After this, to feel the 
ground firm under foot; to see the sunlight touching 
the summits of the hills of life; to have conscious- 
ness of growing purpose to reach these safe dis- 
tances, in the strength of the Mighty Hand reached 
down to help, — is best comparable to the opening 
morning of a new day. 

Thus for all these years, though I have seen storms 
and sometimes cloudy skies, in difficulty and danger, 
in changes various and experiences manifold, it has 
never been dark: in the gloomiest hour there has 
been a consciousness of sunhght beyond the cloud. 
Though sorely tried, I have never despaired. In 
weakness I have experienced the truth that " He 
giveth strength to the feeble;" and I have the con- 
sciousness of having been enabled to help some to 
a better life, to encourage some desponding hearts, 
and to lift up some that were sinking. For this I 
am most devoutly thankful, and put forth these expe- 



DESIRE TO HELP OTHERS. 31 

riences, observations, and opinions, hoping that the 
cause of truth and right may thereby be advanced. 

I pretend to no hterary abiHty, and am aware that 
I am more at home on the platform than with the 
pen. Thus I pay httle regard to the " unities," or the 
chronology. My book w^ill be somewhat desultory, 
one thing leading on to another. My aim is to inter- 
est, perhaps amuse, and, above all, to help. 



CHAPTEK II. 



OUK WELCOME TO ENGLA:?^). 
FRIENDS. 



OLD ANJy NEW 



Revisiting England — The Welcome — Old Friends missed — Kindness 
of Dean Stanley — "Sermons in Stones" — Coronation Scenes — 
Downing Street — First Address in Metropolitan Tabernacle — An 
Overpowering Reception — Warm Heart and Open Pm-se — Early 
Dinners and Success — Mercantile Life ■ — The Flowing Bowl in 
Business — " Brackley-Street Mission " — Costermongers' Homes — 
War Nurses — "The Gift of Giving" — Children taking the Pledge 
— Total Abstinence pays — Value of Half a Sovereign — "A Jolly 
Good Fellow" — Rebuking Evil in High Places — "Another Nail in 
my Coffin" — England's Lord High Chancellor — His Official Dig- 
nity — Amazing Progress — The Great Suj)per — Temperance in 
English Parlors — " Persistence a Cardinal Virtue," . . .32 

'EELIISrGr the necessity of rest, after 
thirty-six years of almost unbroken hard 
work, I determined to revisit England, 
see my old and valued friends, accept 
the numerous offers of hospitality, and 
spend perhaps two years in Europe. In 
answer to repeated and urgent requests, I 
proposed giving thirty lectures while in 
England, and to pass some months on the 
Continent. So on the 10th of July, 1878, Mrs. Gough 
and myself sailed from ISTew York for Liverpool, two 
of our nieces accompanying us. 

On our landing, we were met by a committee of 
the " i^ational Temperance League," of the " United 
Kingdom Band of Hope Union/' of the " Good'Tem- 

32 







PLEASANT RECEPTIO:^'. 33 

plars," who presented me with a beautifully engrossed 
address of welcome; and a deputation from the "Liv- 
erpool Temperance Union," and from the " Liverpool 
Popular Central Association." My dear, good friend 
William Logan, who went home to heaven on the last 
day I spent in Glasgow, came from Scotland to greet 
us, and John M. Cook, Esq., rendered us valuable 
assistance. 

It had been pleasantly arranged that there should 
be a social gathering of the friends to meet me, before 
commencing my public work. By the kind permis- 
sion of the Dean and Chapter, a garden party was 
given in the College Gardens of Westminster Abbey. 
It was a peculiarly gratifying occasion, especially con- 
sidering the high social position of those who gave 
me their greeting. The American minister, Hon. Mr. 
Welch, was present; also several dignitaries of the 
Church, some members of Parliament, and a splendid 
representation from the different temperance organ- 
izations. 

Tea and coffee were served in a marquee^ and dur- 
ing refreshments the band of the Royal Greenwich 
Hospital performed a selection of music. It was a 
most enjoyable affair. Many of our dear old friends, 
and many new ones, were there; yet we missed sev- 
eral familiar faces that our hearts yearned again to 
greet. But I will not dwell on this very pleasant 
episode, and only say that after speeches by Samuel 
Bowly, Esq., his Excellency the American minister, 
Canon Duckworth, Dr. Pichardson, Canon Ellison, 
Samuel Morley, Esq., M.P., Dean Stanley spoke a few 
words of welcome, and offered to conduct us through 
the abbey, which he did to our great delight. That 
beautiful garden, the smooth lawn, the surroundings — 
3 



34 WESTMi:t5rSTER ABBEY. 

on one side the gray towers of the venerable abbey, 
and on the other the clock-tower and Victoria tower 
of the Parliament houses — the whole scene, so 
charming, will never fade from my memory. 

Any attempt to describe Westminster Abbey would 
be presumptuous, following the many who have so 
eloquently succeeded. If it is true that there are 
" sermons in stones," — and that there are, we have the 
authority of Shakespeare, — where shall we go for a 
better sermon than to Westminster Abbey? standing, 
as it does, gray and hoary and majestic, rich with the 
memories of the past, and consecrated with the bones 
and ashes and reputations of the great! All that 
Britain contained or contains of the illustrious or 
good, of genius or culture, have trodden its aisles, have 
come hither to worship, to admire, to mourn, or, it 
may be, after life's fitful fever, to sleep. Here maj- 
esty, amidst pomp and splendor, has assumed the 
crown, and, amidst equal pomp and circumstance, has 
laid it down; here the nation has mourned the bard 
whose verse is as immortal as her tongue ; and here 
she has wept over her greatest statesmen — dead. 

In the neighborhood of the abbey we are in the 
centre of English civilization, and near the brain of 
government — that Downing Street from which Eng- 
land, Scotland, Ireland, ay, and lands far remote, 
peopled by alien races, professing alien creeds, speak- 
ing alien tongues, are ruled. Royalty resides in close 
proximity; and in ermined gown and solemn wig and 
official pomp the proud peers of Britain assemble to 
legislate, not a stone's throw from this sacred shrine. 

It was arranged to commence my public work at 
the Metropolitan Tabernacle (Rev. Mr. Spurgeon's) 
on Tuesday, September 22d. After spending a week 



FIEST LECTURE. 35 

with our dear friends Mr. and Mrs. George Brown, 
of Houghton, Hunts, we started for the Continent; 
but after four weeks of ahnost incessant wet weather, 
we returned to London, and took lodgings at 185 
Piccadilly, resting till the important evening should 
arrive. What an audience, and what a greeting ! It 
was overpowering. The papers stated that seven 
thousand were present. It was a happy beginning of 
our allotted work. The chairman on that occasion 
was Sir Charles Reed, honored as chairman of the 
London School Board, formerly M.P. for the borough 
of Hackney,"^ a leading man in every good word and 
work. He is the second son of the celebrated philan- 
thropist the late Dr. Andrew Peed, who was sent as 
a deputation to America by the English Congrega- 
tionalists as far back as 1833. Sir Charles is a 
typefounder in Aldersgate Street, and was intimately 
associated Avith our illustrious Peabody, of whose 
estate he was the executor. He is also . one of the 
leading men in connection with the Sunday School 
Union. He is a prompt man of business, always 
managing to come at the right time, say and do the 
right thing, and then be off to another meeting or 
committee elsewhere. He is a brother-in-law of Hon. 
Edward Baines, the proprietor of that influential jour- 
nal the "Leeds Mercury." Sir Charles has been a 
successful man through life, and for years has been 
more or less a public man, especially in connection 
with the city of London ; and I believe he might have 
been Lord Mayor had his ambition led him in that 
direction, but as he refrained from coming forward as 
an alderman, of course he cannot rise to that dignity. 
His hair is white, his forni erect, and there is a hearty 

* Elected in 1880 as a member for St. Ives. 



36 A MODEL BUSINESS MA:N". 

« 

glow on his benevolent face, which shows that his 
work agrees with him. He has an easy and natural 
way of speaking. What he says seems to come to 
him naturally and with httle effort. He is very pop- 
ular, and is generally hailed on his public appearances 
with hearty applause. 

The chairmen of my other meetings have impressed 
upon me the conviction that never before has the 
Temperance cause been more thoroughly allied to the 
highest culture. Vividly do I recall Samuel Morley, 
M.P. for the city of Bristol, one of those merchant- 
princes who are the glory and pride of London, and 
of England. He is a tall, well-made man, with rather 
a serious, but extremely intelligent and attractive 
face, with a warm heart and a smile for every ear- 
nest worker in the cause of humanity. 'Nor is this 
all. His purse is as big as his heart, and he rarely 
refuses a handsome donation in every case of real 
distress. To him many have been indebted for the 
building of a chapel, Wesleyan, Baptist or Congre- 
gation alist, and the erection of mission halls or coffee 
palaces; to the establishment of school and college, 
or tO' special efforts made by the Bible and tract 
societies, and the " Sunday School Union." I think 
he is almost seventy years old, and he seems to have 
an immense power of work in him yet, looking much 
younger than his years. I am told that of his in- 
come, which is set down at £70,000 a year, half of 
it is spent in charity. In politics he is one of the 
liberal leaders in the city. He is a dissenter, and a 
Congregationalist. As a man of business he has few 
equals. His factory is at Nottingham; his warehouse 
in Wood Street, Cheapside ; and he has a superb resi- 
dence some way from town, in one of the most beau- 



H0:N^. SAMUEL MORLEY. 37 

tiful districts of the county of Kent. He does not 
make long speeches, but what he says is alwaj^s to 
the point, and comes from the heart. 

In spite of his great wealth he always dines in the 
middle of the day, as his young men, of whom there 
are some seven or eight hundred, dine at that time. 
Such a habit gives him ample opportunity to devote 
his evenings to useful, philanthropic, and religious 
work. This dinner-hour was recommended to him, 
when quite a young man, by his uncle, who said to 
him, "N^ow, Samuel, never give in to the fashion of 
late dinners; if you do, you will never be able to do 
any good in the world." And Mr. Morley has ever 
since avoided late dinners, and thus devotes the time 
he has gained to the promotion of the welfare of his 
fellow-man and to the glory of God. A more sincere 
Christian man I know not. 

In the city he is an earnest supporter of the Tem- 
perance movement. He was also one of the first 
members of the London School Board. There is a 
great deal of drinking in London mercantile life. 
The great houses have their buyers, and these buy- 
ers are exposed to great temptations. The agents of 
the manufacturers invite them to heavy lunches, or 
grand dinners, where the wine circulates freely, and 
business is transacted over the flowing bowl. Against 
this custom Mr. Morley ever utters a conscientious 
protest, and he will not sanction it in any way, as he 
has seen so much of the mischief, and the mental, 
bodily and spiritual ruin it creates. He is president 
of the " Band of Hope Union," and often stands side 
by side with the noble Earl of Shaftesbury in the 
cause of ragged schools. 

One sees Mr. Morley dri^dng about in a fine mail 



38 ROAST BEEF AKD PLUM PUDDE^G. 

phaeton, as if he were some thirty or forty years 
younger than he really is. I can quite understand 
his desire to take things a little easier, but it seems 
that people will not let him; for instance, he wishes 
to retire from Parliament, but the Bristol people in- 
sist on retaining him as their M.P. 

In one thing he is especially interested, and that is 
in the Brackley Street Mission. You must know that 
though they are pulhng down all the old houses, and 
all the unhealthy, fever-breeding tenements in London, 
as fast as they can, many of them are still left. One 
of these is in Brackley Street, a very low part of the 
city, where a great number of the costermongers live, 
not very far from the grand warehouses in Cheapside 
and Gresham Street. In this street Mr. Morley's 
employes have established a mission church, where a 
city missionary preaches every Sunday. A flourishing 
Sunday school has also been established, where all the 
agencies connected with such places are worked by 
Mr. Morley's young men. At Cliristmas time a grand 
dinner of roast-beef and plum-pudding is provided for 
the poor people connected with the mission hall, and 
presents are given to the children; and Mr. Morley 
is sure to be present on such occasions. 

There is another institution in the suburbs of Lon- 
don, almost entirely supported by Mr. Morley and his 
brother, viz., the Protestant Deaconess' Institute, at 
Tottenham, just opposite the spot where dear old 
Isaac "Walton, the angler — as he tells us in his book, 
— loved to refresh himself when he went fishing in 
the direction of the river Lea. There Dr. Losereau, 
a medical man, has found a nice old-fashioned house, 
which he has converted into a hospital, and in which 
he appoints a certain number of respectable, religious 



THE GIFT OF GIVmG. 39 

young women of the middle class, whom he trains to 
nurse the sick, and at the same time to minister to 
the mind diseased and to solace and strengthen it 
with the consolations religion imparts. In all parts 
of the country these nurses have been employed. 
They have also been useful in the East, and in the 
war between France and Germany; and whatever 
power they have been for good has been chiefly due 
to the constant and liberal support of such a man as 
Mr. Morley. Yet with all this, Mr. Morley is a per- 
fectly unostentatious man. 

Often if A gives a hundred pounds to some charity, 
S gives another to prove himself as good a man as 
A, In a fashionable comedy, a city merchant is rep- 
resented as telling his private secretary to send so 
many hundred pounds to all the charities which pub- 
lished the names of the donors, and to put it down 
under the head of advertisements. Mr. Morley is 
not a man of that class. ]^or is he like a wealthy 
brother of whom I heard the other day. He be- 
longed, it seems, to the Baptist denomination; and, 
upon an intimation to the church of his desire to be 
set apart for ministerial training, a deputation was 
appointed to confer with him on the subject. After 
due and anxious deliberation, they returned with their 
report. It was to the effect that the young man in 
question had one great talent which might be usefully 
employed for the good of the community, for the ser- 
vice of the church, and for the honor of God; and 
that was the gift of giving. Mr. Morley has that 
talent in perfection, and he makes a noble use of it; 
but he has other and greater and better gifts as well. 

Another chairman was Canon Farrar, the author of 
the most successful "Life of Christ" that has appeared 



40 REV. CANON FARRAR. 

in our day. He is the son of a clergyman, and with 
his delicately chiselled face and fair complexion, looks 
every inch a gentleman. Originally he devoted more 
time to teaching than to preaching. He was one of 
the masters at that beautiful Harrow school, where 
Lord Byron and Sir Kobert Peel were trained. Mr. 
Farrar was appointed head master; he is now, how- 
ever, one of the canons of Westminster, and one of 
the most attractive and fascinating orators in the 
English Church. He has a calm and gentle, and yet 
very telling way of speaking, and when he preaches 
at Westminster, the grand old abbey is crowded in 
every part. He is quite in the prime of life — indeed 
he looks very young, considering the work he has 
done and the reputation he has gained. His books 
have a great sale, and so have his single sermons. 
He has also written some good stories for boys. 

He presided twice in Exeter Hall at my lectures. 
I heard him speak only for a few minutes, but there 
was a magnetism about him making us long to hear 
more. His utterances for temperance are not uncer- 
tain : he is thoroughly in earnest, and speaks power- 
fully and very eloquently. He has spoken in the 
Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford; and at Cambridge, 
Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Aberdeen universities, and 
is doing a very important work. He told me that all 
his children had signed the total-abstinence pledge. 
He is a most valuable acquisition to the temperance 
cause in England, and his influence through his pub- 
lished speeches is extensively acknowledged in this 
country. 

Another chairman was the Lord Bishop of Exeter, 
a great contrast to his predecessor, the renowned 
Tory, Bishop Philpots. Dr. Temple was at one time 



LORD BISHOP OF EXETER. 41 

master of Rugby Grammar School, the successor of 
Dr. Arnold, whose life was admirably written by Dean 
Stanley while a professor in Oxford, and who raised 
the reputation of that school to the very pinnacle, — 
Rugby made so familiar to us by Thomas Hughes in 
his " Tom Brown's Schooldays." Bishop Temple 
reminds you not a little of Dr. Cummings, of the 
Scotch church, in his best days. He is dark in com- 
plexion and hair; he has an ecclesiastic, scholastic, 
and high-bred appearance. There was what I have 
heard called a " tremendous row," when he was made 
Bishop of Exeter, as he was one of the seven who 
wrote the " Essays," which some years ago made so 
much talk, and were the theme of so much discussion 
in England, on the Continent, and in America. The 
doctor has outlived the odium tlieologicum, per- 
haps one of the most virulent forms of human ani- 
mosity, and is universally esteemed and respected. 
His speech on temperance was very attractive and 
decisive; he impressed me as a man with profound 
convictions, who knew what he was talking about, 
and uttered every sentence with a decision that im- 
pressed you with his sense of the importance of his 
own utterances. His language was perfection. He 
was received by the audience at Plymouth with great 
enthusiasm. 

Another, who presided at my lecture at Croydon, 
was the Lord Bishop of Rochester, who has one of 
the sweetest faces I ever looked upon. He is small 
in person, but great in effort, dignified but not stiff, 
exceedingly courteous and genial, and the perfect 
gentleman. A short time since, he was a hard-work- 
ing English clergyman; now he is an evangelical 
bishop in one of the busiest of English dioceses. 



42 BORKOWING HALF A SOVEEEIGJiT. 

His speech is grave but forcible and to the point. 
He said emphatically: "I deserve neither praise nor 
pity for being a total abstainer. I do not deserve 
praise, because I never did a better thing for myself 
in all my life ; nor do I deserve pity, for it has doubled 
my working power." He is held in high esteem, and 
is universally respected and beloved. He spoke to 
me of the great delight which he has always expe- 
rienced in his repeated visits to the United States. 

The Bishop of Bangor presided at my lecture at 
Carnarvon, but, owing to his late arrival, I saw but 
little of him beyond the personal formalities of the 
immediate occasion. 

The Bishop of Bedford presided at my lecture in 
Oswestry. He preached the Temperance sermon in 
Westminster Abbey for the. League, in March last. 
Canon Ellison presided for me at Oxford; Canon 
Wilberforce, at Southampton; Canon Connor, at 
Newport, Isle of AVight; the Dean of York, at York; 
the Dean of Durham, at I^ewcastle; the Lord Lieu- 
tenant and father of the House of Commons, Hon. 
Mr. Talbot, at Swansea; the Lord Mayor of Dublin, 
at Dublin. "What a change in public sentiment in 
twenty ^^ears ! when it was rare to obtain the service 
of a clergyman to preside. 

Another chairman was Benjamin Whitworth, a man 
who has made his own way in the world, and who is 
now, or was till lately, one of the largest employers 
of labor in England. He is a man of middle height, 
gray hair, pleasant in aspect, calm and convincing in 
speech. Said a friend of mine to one who knew him 
well some years ago, " How did Mr. Whitworth make 
all his money?" " Why, by borrowing half a sover- 
eign," was the reply. My friend said to me, "I'm 



MAKING A rORTUlSTE. 43 

afraid that cannot be the secret of his success, as I 
went at once and borrowed a sovereign, and yet I am 
far from having made a fortune. It requires financial 
genius to make a fortune out of half a sovereign ; but 
that genius Mr. Whitworth has in an eminent degree, 
and it has made him a member of Parliament, and a 
man of mark." He commenced his speech of intro- 
duction with a few very pithy remarks, announcing 
himself as the oldest total-abstainer perhaps in the 
world, as he was sixty-two years of age, and had 
never tasted intoxicating drink in his life. With 
such a record, he carries a great deal of power; and, 
though rich and of commanding influence, he is very 
simple in his manners, thoroughly the gentleman 
without any superciliousness. I was very much at- 
tracted to him, and enjoyed meeting him exceed- 
ingly. 

I had the pleasure and privilege of meeting Sir 
Wilfred Lawson, the president of the United King- 
dom Alliance, who was the chairman at my third 
lecture in Mr. Spurgeon's tabernacle. He is one of 
the wittiest men in the House of Commons. I am 
told that his income from land alone is £100,000 per 
annum. If he were not a teetotaler, he would be a 
'^ jolly good fellow," perhaps, in the bacchanalian sense 
of the term; as it is, he is a ^' jolly good fellow" in a 
higher and nobler sense. It is impossible to converse 
■with him for five minutes without being aflected by 
his goodness and humor. He overflows with what 
Lord Beaconsfield terms " gay wisdom," and is even 
more witty in private than in public life. His wit 
seems to be hereditary. Many years ago, when Heniy 
Brougham canvassed Cumberland, Sir Wilfred's grand- 
father was his vigorous supporter. On one occasion, 



44: SIR WILFRED LAWSON. 

observing that the conservative side of the hustings 
was crowded with clergymen, the old gentleman 
stretched out his hand towards them, exclaiming, 
" The Lord gave the word, and great was the company 
of the preachers," — an allusion that was extremely 
well relished in the hustings. Sir Wilfred takes the 
world easily. He is good-tempered, and makes you 
good-tempered as well. He has a fine, manly pres- 
ence, and looks as if he might do good service to the 
cause of temperance and righteousness for many years 
to come. As a speaker, he is very fascinating, and at 
once put his audience en rajyport with himself. When- 
ever you see a speech of his reported, you find con- 
stantly the notice " [roars of laughter] "; not that he 
is flippant, by any means; but he introduces side hits 
that are irresistibly funny, and seems to do so some- 
times with an utter unconsciousness that he has said 
anything ludicrous; and his half inquiring, half sur- 
prised look at the convulsed audience only adds to 
their merriment. He exhibits in his speeches sound 
common-sense, unanswerable argument, logic without 
a flaw, and what in other men would be a break or 
digression, with him is only reaching out for and 
employing some outside implement to drive home the 
truth. His good-nature is unshaken by opposition; 
and when sometimes he utters an unpalatable truth, 
— for he is fearless in his expressions of belief, — 
there may be a storm of hissing, he is perfectly im- 
perturbable, and will quietly introduce a story or 
illustration so pat, so apt, as to throw the laugh upon 
his opponents. This he does so gracefully that the 
objectors are to be seen laughing as heartily as the 
others at their own discomfiture, reminding you of 
Charles Lamb when he hooted and hissed as loud as 



PEACE WITH iio:n'or. 45 

any of the audience who condemned the farce on 
which he had built such hopes of emolumento 

I heard him twice: once at a meeting of the 
United Kingdom Alliance, and again when he pre- 
sided at Mr. Spurgeon's tabernacle. I was very 
anxious that he should speak at length, and accord- 
ingly asked him to occupy as much time as possible. 
I thoroughly enjoyed his speech. As a specimen of 
his style, though his manner is unapproachable and 
indescribable, I give a few sentences from one of his 
speeches on the liquor traffic. He said : " The pub- 
licans, if you read their speeches at their dinners, 
generally tell you that they are licensed by the law 
as the guardians of public morality; and we all know 
that the police are the guardians of the public peace. 
Therefore we may say, with regard to this licensing 
question, and this conjunction of publicans and police, 
that righteousness and peace have kissed each other." 

He is a strong liberal, and often introduces a hit, 
very keen, but very smooth, at the opposition. One 
of the mottoes of the conservative party in reference 
to the mission to Berlin, is, "Peace with honor;" so 
in speaking of the publicans, he said: "If you read 
their speeches as I have done, you would say that the 
whole tone of them is, that they are great public 
benefactors, unappreciated by a hard-hearted world, 
who would retire and take refuge in some less philan- 
thropic and arduous business, where they might find 
' Peace with honor,' " — here he was interrupted by 
cheers, laughter, and hisses, when he finished with — 
" if it were not for their burning desire to minister to 
their own comfort, and promote the happiness and 
well-being of the people." Take him for all in all, he 
is one of the most effective speakers for the legisla- 



46 WITTY SPEECHES. 

tive temperance question in England. He has pun- 
gent sarcasm without bitterness, meets opposition 
with unfailing good -humor; his wit is sharp, but 
never causes a rankling wound. He is immensely 
popular, and the very announcement of his name 
creates enthusiasm. I met him at the dinner of the 
Medical Temperance Society, at Langham Hotel, and 
was charmed by his easy and gentlemanly courtesy. 

I venture to give a short extract or two from his 
speech at the Tabernacle, believing it will be interest- 
ing to many: 

"Ladies and Gentlemen: I was at a large meeting last night. I 
took up the ' Echo ' newspaper just before I came here this evening, and 
I saw a paragraph in which it stated that Sir AVilfred Lawson made a 
* tolerably long speech.' I am afraid there was a little misprint, and 
that tlie writer meant an rwtolerably long speech. [Laughter.] I shall 
take warnitig, and not make you an intolerably long speech to-night ; 
but Mr. Gough kindly wishes me to say a few words before I have the 
pleasure of introducing him to this magnilicent meeting, [loud cheers,] 
for it is the grandest meeting which ever I had the pleasure of address- 
ing. [Renewed cheers.] I thank those gentlemen who have promoted 
this meeting for having done me the honor of asking me to preside over 
it. I feel that it is an honor, and more than that, it is a luxury; for I 
am more in the habit, at these meetings, of speaking than of listening. 
To-night I shall have tlie treat — which will be all the greater because it 
will be shared by the many thousands whom I see around me — of hear- 
ing And another reason why I feel it pleasant to come to this 

meeting, is because I am in the habit of about five times a week attend- 
ing another meeting, [laughter,] which is held at St. Stephen's, and I 
assure you I do not attend it with much pleasure, for the business which 
we are engaged in, in that great assembly, is one which is enough to 
wound the heart of any man of feeling. [" Hear, hear."] There we 
are, day by day, and night by night, devising means for the torture and 
the slaughter of our fellow-men." [Uproar.] 

In speaking of the results of drink, he said: 

"Take lunacy. Lord Shaftesbury, himself a lunacy commissioner, 
has told us that drink is one of the principal causes of madness in this* 
country. By the by, while I am talking about lunacy, there comes into 
my mind a remark which was made in this very borough, I think, or 



DR. B. W. RICHARDSON". 47 

near it, by a very great friend of your member's, who sits by my side. 
That good friend was Mr. Morgan Howard, who, making a speech at a 
political meeting not long since, assm-ed his audience that during the 
time when Mr. Gladstone was in office there were more lunatics in the 
asylums of this country than at any other period, [Laughter.] I state 
that to show you the enormity of the evil, because I am quite sure you 
will agree with me that, since the present government came in, the 
lunatics have got loose ! " 

And in conclusion he said : 

"I don't need to tell you to hear him; what I do tell you, is to heed 
him, to take to heart the counsels which he will give you, and to send 
him back, when in a short time he goes across the Atlantic, to the 
Republic of the West, with a message that we intend to live henceforth 
in unity and peace with them, [loud cheers,] and that the only strife 
between us shall be the generous rivalry as to which country first shall 
overthrow that foul and degraded system, based on prejudice, on tyran- 
nous custom, and on unjust laws, which at present is the gi-eatest hin- 
drance in all the paths of virtue and holiness and of true glory, Avhich 
yet blocks the way of the two greatest nations of the world." [Ap- 
plause.] 

One of the men upon whom theTriends of temper- 
ance in England rely very much for medical testi- 
mony against alcoholic drinks is Dr. Richardson, and 
I believe the cause has received through his advocacy 
a most powerful impetus, not only in Great Britain, 
but all over the world where the EnHish lanofuaofe is 
spoken; moreover, his works have been translated 
into several foreign languages. He hails from the 
county of Leicester, and was born in the year 1828. 
His education was chiefly in Scotland. In 1855 he 
originated the first sanitary English journal, the 
"Journal of Public Health, and Sanitary Review," 
which he edited for several years. In 1856 he gained 
the Astley Cooper prize of three hundred guineas for 
an essay on the coagulation of the blood, and he be- 
came a member of the Royal College of Physicians. 
As a lecturer and writer on the diseases of modern 



48 FAREWELL RECEPTION. 

life, on the influence of alcohol and other matters of 
similar character, no one is more popular or more suc- 
cessful than Dr. Richardson; and he speaks with the 
more authority and effect, because at one time he be- 
lieved in and used wine, and recommended its use. 
His numerous works speak for him. His style is 
very attractive. I heard him lecture once in Exeter 
Hall, and was fascinated from the first utterances to 
the closing words; and so intense was the interest 
which he awakened, that at his conclusion, when the 
spell was lifted, there was left the regret that I could 
not hear it all again. To those (and there are many 
in this country) who have read his works, I need not 
say how charming as well as vigorous is his style. 

He is not very tall, rather stout, but well formed, 
and with a face of remarkable intelligence and geni- 
ality. He was one of the first to greet me on my 
arrival in England, and I found him a sincere friend 
and cordial ally. The last evening I spent in London 
was at a farewell reception in his house, where I 
met a delightful company; among them the venerable 
S. C. Hall, known for two generations as an authority 
on matters of art, the editor for years of the "Art 
Journal," and a good worker for temperance ; his wife, 
Mrs. Anna Maria Hall, who has written very elo- 
quently on social reform, was detained by ill-health. 

Another medical man claimed by the total abstain- 
ers, (I was not so fortunate as to meet him,) and 
received as an authority by those who are engaged in 
the temperance work, is Sir Henry Thompson. He 
was born in Framlingham, in Suffolk, the son of a 
grocer and draper, and became in course of time, 
when a young man, a partner in his father's business ; 
but he soon left it, and entered himself as a student 



SIR HENKY THOMPSON". 49 

at University College, London, with an aim to study 
medicine. He passed successfully through all his 
classes, and then went to Paris to study the French 
language and surgery. He returned to London, mar- 
ried Kate Loder, the celebrated pianist, set up in 
practice in Wimpole Street, in the fashionable quarter 
of the town. Here his essay won the Jacksonian 
prize for the year, and he at once became a man of 
mark. He was brought under the notice of the King 
of the Belgians, on whom he performed a successful 
operation, where surgeons in Paris and London had 
failed. The result was that he rose at once to the 
first rank in his profession. The King of the Bel- 
gians gave him, so I have heard, £3,000. The Queen 
of England made him a knight, and nobles and great 
men consulted him ; and it is said that his practice is 
worth £20,000 per year. His letter to the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, on the evils of moderate drink- 
ing, begging his Grace to use his influence to stop it, 
created an immense sensation, and did much to open 
men's eyes, and convince them of the evils of the 
moderate use of alcohol. Sir Henry has great talents 
as an artist, and has been a frequent exhibitol* in the 
Hoyal Academy. His Thursday dinners, at which 
the artists and wits assemble, are among the most cele- 
brated in London. He is tall, thin, gentlemanly, with 
a gray, thick moustache, a dark eye that looks you 
through and through, and a clear, emphatic manner, 
which makes the patient feel that he is safe in his 
hands. Calm, imperturbable as he is, Sir Henry feels 
much. It is said that at the end of a very difiicult 
operation he has exclaimed, " There's another nail in 
my coffin." 

I was brought into contact with these men by my 
4 



50 LOKD HIGH cha:n^celloii. 

connection with them as chairmen at special efforts in 
the temperance cause. My hst would be incomplete 
without mentioning one of the noblest men of England. 
I refer to the then Lord High Chancellor, Earl Cairns; 
the man who stands next to the throne in official cir- 
cles ; the chairman of that august assembly, the House 
of Lords; a man who would not bind himself to any 
cause that was not a noble one; who has all a law- 
yer's caution ; who has in his bearing that hardness 
which constitutes a man of the world, before whom 
sophistry and sentimentalism plead in vain. It was a 
beautiful sight to see him, in the height of the London 
season, — when time was with him most valuable, 
when his mind was most strained with important 
state affairs, — devote one afternoon to preside at a 
lecture of mine in Exeter Hall, and, with chastened 
eloquence and matured wisdom, earnestly commend- 
ing the cause of which I was the advocate, and with 
which I have been identified so many years. In his 
gown and wig, on the woolsack in the House of 
Lords, with his gold mace before him, the Lord High 
Chancellor is a very formidable personage. Even as 
a plain man in the streets, you would notice Lord 
Cairns by his stateliness and calmness, indicative of a 
temperament and resolve of iron, which has lifted him 
up, the son of a clergyman, to the very topmost pin- 
nacle of the London world. When such a man is 
delighted to lend the weight of his name and influ- 
ence and presence and speech to such efforts, how 
great has been the progress of temperance principles 
in the highest circles of the old country! And 
what a personal triumph, to be thus honored for my 
work's sake in the land where I was born to so low 
a lot! 



LORD PHOYOST COLLIN'S. 51 

Truly the progress in twenty-five years has been 
amazing and remarkable. At Rochdale, where I spoke, 
the Mayor of the city was in the chair, the Mayor of 
Bury supporting him on one side, the Mayor of Old- 
ham on the other, giving their countenance, in their 
official capacity, (for they wore the massive gold 
chains and insignia of office,) to the temperance 
cause. In Glasgow, the Lord Provost Collins pre- 
sided and entertained us at his residence. He is 
thoroughly devoted to the reform, gives liberally, and 
is always ready to give his whole influence most 
heartily to the work. On January 1, 1879, he enter- 
tained eight thousand of the unemployed at a sub- 
stantial meal. Several of the largest halls in Glas- 
gow were engaged for the occasion, and appropriate 
speeches were made by ministers of the Gospel and 
by others. In many ways he has manifested his deep 
interest in and sympathy for the poor people, espe- 
cially the deserving working class. 

The Duke of Westminster had engaged to preside 
at my meeting at Chester, but a severe attack of 
bronchitis prevented. He is the wealthiest man in 
England; a small, thin, dark-complexioned man, not 
celebrated as an orator, but a nobleman who mani- 
fests a deep interest in the temperance cause, and 
Avho exerts a powerful influence. He has been the 
means of reducing the number of public-houses on 
his large estates. He is a personal abstainer. Though 
occupying so high a position, he is very unassuming, 
as all truly great men are. A friend of mine, who 
was a stranger to his Grace, was one day at a musical 
soiree in the great reception-rooms of Grosvenor 
House, and as he was standing with some others in 
the doorway, a gentleman asked them to take a 



52 DUKE OF WESTMnrSTEE. 

seat in the next room, " where," he said, " you can 
hear just as well." " Oh," said my friend, " I don't 
care where I sit, so long as I can hear what the 
Duke has to say for himself." " Oh," observed the 
stranger, "I will let you know when I am going 
to speak." My friend was talking to the great Duke 
himself. 

I was delighted to meet again my dear and honored 
friend, Samuel Bowly, whose tall, erect, and manly 
presence shows how well teetotalers can bear the 
heat and burden of the day, and who has for many 
years constantly and liberally devoted his time and 
means to the promotion of every good work. In his 
advanced age, he is as useful and powerful, and I 
believe more influential, than ever. With his high 
social position, he has done a great work for the tem- 
perance cause among those who could not otherwise 
have been reached, by his very successful parlor-meet- 
ings at the houses, and in the drawing-rooms of the 
wealthy and educated, introducing teetotalism into 
many a circle where it was once a thing to be scoffed 
at. As a deputation for the ISTational Temperance 
League, of which he is the honored president, he has 
presented the cause all over the country by his excel- 
lent and persuasive platform speeches, and by his 
agency the principles are honored and revered where 
they were once held in contempt. I know of no man 
more universally beloved than dear Samuel Bowly of 
Gloucester. 

Robert Rae, Secretary of the ^N'ational Temperance 
League, is one of the noble self-sacrificing workers 
that inspire with new courage those who are ready to 
faint; always hopeful, ever striving for an object, 
constantly organizing for some new effort, he is in- 



PEESISTEN^CE A CAEDI^AL VHITUE. 53^ 

valuable to the association. One of the most patient 
yet persistent men I ever knew; holding his own, 
when convinced he is right, against all opponents 
without flinching, yet with wonderful equanimity; 
never dictatorial, but always firm; a reliable friend, 
and a generous enemy; bold in denouncing sin, yet 
tender to the sinner, with a stern rebuke for the per- 
sistent transgressor, but with deep sympathy for the 
unfortunate; never compromising wrong, yet very 
gentle to the wronged. He is one whom all respect 
and many love. 

A grand worker and representative Scotchman was 
Thomas Knox of Edinburgh, whose sudden death last 
December was felt as a national loss, and most keenly 
mourned by the temperance friends who had known 
him for so many years as a firm adherent to our prin- 
ciples. He once said to me, " I believe persistence to 
be one of the cardinal virtues ; " and most thoroughly 
did he exhibit that virtue. When I was in Scotland, 
as early as 1853, he was writing powerful articles in 
the secular papers on education, and proposed the 
introduction of temperance lesson-books. He was 
strongly opposed by one section of the community, 
and barely tolerated by another, while many of the 
friends of temperance looked coldly on his scheme. 
But he persevered, and for twenty years worked for 
this object, with small encouragement from any source, 
and lived to see his plan becoming popular, — lived to 
see temperance literature introduced into many of the 
schools of his beloved Scotland, and to know that his 
scheme is extensively advocated and adopted, not 
only on the continent of Europe, but in the United 
States. He was a genial man, one for whom I have a 
strong affection. He has encouraged me when de- 



54 DEAE, TRUE miENDS. 

sponding, cheered me when sad, comforted me when 
suiFering, helped me when I needed it. He was my 
firm, true, tried, and trusted friend, and I shall always 
thank God that I ever knew Thomas Knox. 

As I pen these recollections of good men, I see 
them coming in troops before me, and I must forbear, 
or I should fill my book with the outpouring of my 
heart towards the dear, true friends of my life. 



CHAPTEK III. 

STREET LIFE A^D SCEIS^ES IN THE WOELD'S 
METROPOLIS. 



London — Life in the Metropolis — Great Contrasts — Unknown 
Depths — "The London Market" — Shops of London — Streets and 
Palaces — Distinctive Communities — A World in Miniature — 
Street People — Cab Experience — Gathering a Crowd — " Yot's 
hup, Cabby? " — Excitements of the Streets — Street Children — "It 
looks worry nice, Sir " — Street Boys' Histories — Awful Surround- 
ings in Childhood — " Never had a Chance " — Barnabas or Barab- 
bas? — After the Funeral — How the Boy became an Outcast — 
Vice and Crime — The Orphan's Lot — Sixteen Hundred Waifs — 
Sleeping in an Iron Roller and in the Boot of an Omnibus — " We 
must go to Business " — Money-Making -— Diving in Sewers — 
" Mud-Larks " — " Wagabones and Hactors " — Street Arabs — 
" Peeler's " Difficulties — Street-Boys' AVit — " Penny " Merchants 
— Street Wares — Cheap Books — " Raising the Wind," . . 55 

)S this book is intended for, and will be 
read principally by, Americans, I ven- 
ture to introduce many of my expe- 
riences and jottings in London and 
England. 

London is a fruitful theme; every 
year a fresh crop of material springs 
I do not say that he who has seen 
London has seen the world, but I do say, 
that to all of Anglo-Saxon origin on the face of the 
wide world, there is no city fuller of interest and 
excitement than London. The traditions and archives 
of our race are treasured there. To us, when we 

55 




56 EXPLORING LONDON. 

cross the Atlantic, London holds out a friendly hand; 
and I say of London, as Cowper said of England, — 
for I have tasted its hospitality, partaken of its gen- 
erosity, and been familiar with its people, — 

" London, with all thy faults, I love thee still." 

Yes; London, the great metropolis whose street 
scenes so fascinated me; London, with its contrasts, 
its squalid poverty and its enormous wealth. I ex- 
plored London with great interest, becoming more 
attracted with a closer acquaintance. How few know 
London! Though I spent days and nights in my 
explorations, I know but very little of the great me- 
tropolis. Out of America, I had rather live in London 
than in any city in the world. You cannot know it 
by merely spending a few weeks in a lodging-house 
or hotel, and " doing the sights : " you must explore. 
By simply skimming the surface, you know nothing, 
comparatively. It is a place that grows in interest on 
acquaintance. At first, it seems darker, duller, noisier, 
and more bustUng than any ordinary town or city. 
Few like London on a first visit ; no one who has long 
lived there but leaves it with regret. The fairest of 
England's daughters, the manliest of England's sons, 
all press to London as the fitting arena of enterprise, 
conquest, or display. London drains the country, 
and from it the country is supplied. Go to the Land's 
End, or the Scilly Isles, and see field after field grown 
with vegetables ; inquire, and you are told " they are 
for the London market." In the most remote parts of 
Scotland, ask the sportsman shooting grouse the des- 
tination of those wagon-loads of game, and you are 
told "they are for the London market." Cross to 
Ireland, that butter and those pigs on the quays of 



LOCH LEVEN TEOUT. 57 

Dublin and Cork are for the London market. Sail up 
the remotest bays and fiords of old ISTorway, and ask 
whither they are sending those lobsters, crabs, and 
salmon; plant yourself in some picturesque part of 
Normandy, and ask why they are filling these vessels 
with potatoes and eggs, the answer is still the same, — 
^' for the London market." 

In the shops of London, the finest and rarest 
productions of the world are to be found. In Covent 
Garden you may buy green peas, ripe strawberries, 
and exquisite flowers the year round; and, as I said, 
it is from London that the country is supplied. Per- 
haps you are dining with a gentleman two or three 
hundred miles from town, by the seaside ; you ask 
where he obtained so fine a fish, he tells you it was 
brought by train from London. I was at one time 
engaged to speak near Loch Leven. The gentleman 
who entertained me said, " I shall give you a rare 
treat for supper to-night, — Loch Leven trout." " jSTot 
very rare to you," I replied, " for you must have them 
in abundance during the season." " Indeed," said he, 
"we do not; we who live here cannot obtain them for 
love or money, except on special occasions, and this 
is one. The tacksman sent me a fine dish of them, 
that you might eat trout on the borders of Loch 
Leven, Avhich we very seldom do." In reply to my 
inquiry, he told me that all the fish were contracted 
for in London at a certain rate, on condition that none 
should be sold under any circumstances ; and that the 
disposal of a single trout for money would break the 
contract; and said he, " if Ave want Loch Leven trout, 
we must obtain them from London." 

London is a very fascinating place to most who 
have resided there long, in spite of its smoke, dirt, 



58 SEVERAL CITIES EST ONE. 

and fog. Charles Lamb, in a letter to Manning, in 
reference to a journey in the country, thus speaks of 
London : " Streets, streets, streets, markets, theatres, 
churches ; Covent Gardens ; shops sparkling with 
pretty faces of industrious milliners, neat seamstresses, 
ladies cheapening, gentlemen behind counters lying ; 
authors in the streets with spectacles; lamps lit at 
night; if you happen to wake at midnight, cries of 
fire ! and stop thief ! inns of court, with their learned 
air, and halls, and butteries, old book-stalls, Jeremy 
Taylors, Burtons on Melancholy, and Religio Medicis 
at every stall ; — these are thy pleasures, O London ! 
and for these may Keswick and her giant brood go 
hang ! " 

Dr. Johnson could live nowhere else but in London 
with comfort. London is several cities rolled into 
one. If you walk along Regent Street, it is a city of 
gorgeous shops; if you turn to the west, of parks 
and palaces; if you travel St. Giles, of gin and dirt; 
in Belgravia, it is rich and grand; in Pimlico, it is 
poor and pretentious ; in Russell Square it is well-to- 
do, — successful professional men abiding in what Mr. 
Wilson Croker called its unexplored regions. You 
will find between each neighborhood a regular line of 
demarcation. "When I consider this great city," 
wrote Addison, — and the language is applicable now, 
— " in its several quarters and divisions, I look upon 
it as an aggregate of various nations, distinguished 
from each other by their respective customs, manners, 
and interests. The courts of two countries do not so 
much differ from one another as the court and city of 
London, in their peculiar ways of life and conversa- 
tion. In short," he says, "the inhabitants of St. 
James, notwithstanding they live under the same 



WAJSTT OF FEESH AIR. 59 

laws, and speak the same language, are a distinct 
people from those of Cheapside, by several climates 
and degrees, in their way of thinking as well as con- 
versing." 

Fashion migrates to the west; actors and musi- 
cians live about Brompton; the medical students take 
possession of whole streets in the vicinity of their 
respective hospitals; the inns of court are chiefly 
inhabited by barristers ; France, Italy, Hungary, Po- 
land, you will find represented by the cafes and cigar- 
shops, billiard-rooms and restaurants of Leicester 
Square; Wapping, Rotherhithe, and the Commercial 
Eoad abound with sailors of every nation under the 
sun; Quakers live about Edmonton and Stoke-I^ew- 
ington; Jews congregate in Houndsditch. In short, 
the swells in the i^arks, the millers in Mark Lane, the 
graziers in the new Cattle Market, the prim, pale lads 
in the city, the silk- weavers of Spitalfields, or the sugar- 
bakers of White Chapel, really form distinct commu- 
nities, and seem absolutely localized in their ideas. 

The late Dr. Arnott, one of the greatest sanitary 
reformers of the age, used to say, that though Lon- 
don was not a place where the rate of mortality was 
very high, yet it was a place where no one enjoyed 
very good health. There is more and more danger 
every year of its health being diminished, by want of 
fresh air. People live out of town, rents are too high 
in the city, and, in consequence of its rapid extension, 
the great and growing evil is the want of fresh air. 
It is stated, in confirmation of this fact, that every 
year the hospital surgeons in London find it more 
diflacult to cure wounds and injuries to the human 
body, on account of the growing impurity of the 
London air, A few years ago there was such a fog 



60 " 'old 'ard, hold teller." 

ill London, not only in the city, but at the Agricul- 
tural Hall at Islington, that fat cattle worth hundreds 
of pounds — cattle that had won prizes at various 
fairs — were actually suffocated. Long ago, that 
famous man, Count Rumford, used to estimate the 
amount of coal suspended in the London air as some 
millions of chaldrons. It is a curious fact that Sir 
Rutherford Alcock, when he visited the great wall in 
China, brought back with him a couple of bricks; 
one of these bricks he put outside a London balcony. 
In two years it had gone entirely to pieces, being 
disintegrated by the action of the atmosphere. This 
materially affects out-of-door monuments in particu- 
lar, and street architecture in general. They have 
been compelled to cover the Obelisk on the Embank- 
ment with a preparation, to preserve it, as it began to 
crumble. 

The peojDle in the London streets, by day or night, 
are fascinating to me; and I never weary of strolling 
about and watching them. It is very easy to gather 
a crowd: a horse falls down, and in a few minutes it 
requires a policeman to clear the street. One evening 
I started in a cab from the Midland Railway Station 
for Piccadilly, accompanied by a lady. "We had 
passed the Five Dials, and were in Gerrard Street, 
when the horse staggered and fell. At once a crowd 
of men, women, boys, and girls gathered round us. 
"Yot's hup, cabby?" " Vy, don't yer see vot's hup? 
My 'orse is down; that's vot's hup." "Yah, he's got 
the staggers, blest if he 'asn't." "'Old 'ard, hold 
feller ; " to the horse, who was struggling. " ]^ow, 
then, stupid, do you vant your blessed legs broke 
vith them 'ere 'eels? " " Vot are ye vipping him for?" 
" Yun of ye sit on 'is 'ed, and vee'l get 'im out of the 



STREET BOYS AKD GIRLS. 61 

shafts in a jiffy." Such a din ! boys laughing, women 
screaming at every fresh struggle of the wretched 
horse, or pitying him with, " poor thing ! " " vot a 
shame ! " The poor, beer-soaked cabman was perfectly 
bewildered, the crowd and confusion increasing, some 
one cried out, " 'ere's the perlice," and by his direc- 
tion we transferred our luggage to another cab; and, 
paying half a crown in fees, beside the cabby's fare, 
we got awa}^, leaving the poor horse on the ground, 
and the crowd undiminished. You hail a cab, or 
hansom, where there is a stream of passers-by, and 
immediately a group of persons will stop to see you 
get in. Stand stock-still, and stare in one direction, 
and a dense crowd will soon be formed; ask a man, 
" What is the matter ; what are the people standing 
like that for?" He doesn't know, he says, and yet 
he is staring as earnestly as any. 

The street folks are easily excited. In some parts 
of the city, in the evening, you see an organ-grinder 
at work, and young girls dancing with as keen an 
enjoyment as the fashionable lady at the stylish ball. 
These street boys and girls are uncontrollable. I 
found them, after twenty years, just the same, — 
keen, sharp, impudent. Coming through the Strand, 
a flake of soot fell on my moustache. I began to run 
my fingers through the hair, when a ragged, little bit 
of a boy looked up at me and said, with a perfectly 
sober face, " It looks wery nice, sir." 

It is to be hoped that the compulsory education by 
the school boards will be effectual in repressing them 
in some degree; but it is wonderful the numbers 
who evade the provisions of the School Act, and 
every day the " Bobbies," as they term the policemen, 
are commissioned to arrest a truant. It is vastly 



62 AK AMUSING CHASE. 

amusing when a policeman undertakes to capture one 
or more of these wild boys or girls, as they rush 
about, followed by the panting "Bobby," out of 
breath, and altogether too heavy to cope with such 
small fry. The little one has the game in his own 
hands, and he knows it. Policeman has no chance in 
a fair race; at a long distance, the odds might be in 
his favor. He has long legs; he has, perhaps, more 
than an average amount of bone and muscle ; but he 
is not fairly matched : he can't dodge under horses ; 
he can't crawl between the wheels of a street-car, or 
an omnibus; he can't hide his portly form behind a 
pillar box; and his pursuit is like a buflPalo chasing a 
butterfly, which generally ends in failure, and perhaps 
the last act of the farce is the little rascal taking a 
sight at him. 

Occasionally one is caught; and now let us question 
the poor little fellow. You find he is shrewd, quick, 
sensitive, yet thoroughly wicked, — a waif of the 
streets. Read his history before you pass judgment. 
His home is a cellar; his mother a shameless beggar; 
his father a drunkard; his sisters, with livid, withered, 
sad faces, ply their dreadful trade. His family are 
vagabonds and outcasts. He dwells amid unclean- 
ness and cruelty, catching the contagion of sin, and 
in sympathy with polluted humanity in every form. 
His history? It is one of darkness, without one ray 
of light; a history which, if traced in tears and written 
in blood, none of us would have nerve enough to read. 
Born and brought up in the midst of such horrible 
surroundings, he is what he is. How can he grow 
God-like, while all the influences of his life tend to 
make and keep him morally hideous? Take one of 
your own dear ones, and give him the education that 



BAEXABAS — NOT BARABBAS. 63 

boj has had, with all his woful experience of life, and 
he would be as he is — no better, no worse. Would 
you be what you are if your infancy and childhood 
had been passed among all the horrible influences that 
have surrounded him? Think of this, and look at 
him as he is; and do not sweep him away with the 
pitiful leavings of the street, but help him, give him 
knowledge, teach him the Lord's Prayer, tell him of 
Jesus. That boy may be made a Barnabas, instead 
of a Barabbas. As we know more of such neglected 
ones, the less critical and the more loving we shall be. 
He who knew the hearts of all was the most gentle 
in dealing with ignorance. He, the undefiled, en- 
deavored to win the hearts of the guilty, because He 
loved them ; and surely we may be patient — ay, 
even believing and hoping — in all our efforts to 
lift up the unfortunate, and thus do Christ's work on 
earth. Solomon says, that " Foolishness is bound up 
in the heart of a child ; " and what is to be expected 
of these boys born and bred in the streets? I have 
seen the children from a Christian home go astray. 
Some of the sons of the wealthy and refined have 
become poor and coarse; but these children of the 
drunkard and the thief never had a chance. 

A poor working-man in Lambeth, when returning 
one Sabbath afternoon from a ragged school, found a 
little boy sitting in a very destitute condition on a 
door-step, took him home, and asked his history. The 
lad was about ten years of age ; his mother had died 
when he was a baby, so that he had no recollection 
of her ; his father had been dead about twelve months 
— partly from the effects of drink. The furniture of 
his room was sold the day of the funeral to pay the 
expenses. "When the lad returned from the grave. 



64 WAITS OF THE STREETS. 

he found a man busy removing the poor sticks and 
rags from the wretched apartment, making it more 
desolate in its emptiness. The boy left that room an 
outcast. The first night he slept in a court; then he 
found refuge in a railway arch; then in the boot of 
an omnibus. Such was his story. Is it wonderful, 
when we think of these things, that there should be 
vice and crime in London? Sixteen hundred of these 
poor little waifs were gathered from the streets, and, 
on examination, one hundred and sixty-two confessed 
that they had been in prison — not merely once or 
twice, but several of them many times; one hundred 
and sixteen had run away from their homes ; one hun- 
dred and seventy slept in the lodging houses; two 
hundred and fifty-three had lived together by begging; 
two hundred and sixteen had neither shoes nor stock- 
ings ; two hundred and eighty had no cap or covering 
for the head ; one hundred and one had no linen ; two 
hundred and forty-nine had never slept in a bed; 
sixty-eight were the children of convicts. How did 
they live? Why, as they could: by sweeping cross- 
ings, turning somersaults for the amusement of 
passers-by, selling lucifer matches, oranges, tapes, 
or ballads. One boy, during the inclement winter, 
passed the greater part of his nights in the large 
iron roller in Regents Park. As an illustration of 
the low rate of morality, I would mention what 
passed at a ragged school, to which some fourteen 
or fifteen boys were admitted. One Sunday evening, 
when the clock struck eight, they all arose. The 
master took one little fellow by the arm, as he was 
leaving, and said, "You must remain, the lesson is 
not over." The reply was, "We must go to busi- 
ness." The master inquired what business; the an- 



MONEY-MAKETG :METH0DS. 65 

swer was, that they must be off to " catch the people 
as they came out of churches and chapels." In short, 
they were pickpockets. 

Lord Ingestre says, in his " Meliora," that he vis- 
ited some low dancing-saloons. In one, a man was 
pointed out, respectably dressed, who gained his living 
by drawing pictures of a ship or steam-engine on the 
pavement. These pictures were sold to boys at one 
shilling each. The man made several of these draw- 
ings in various localities before people were about, 
and thus did very well. 

In London there is an immense variety of methods 
for making money. A lady was one day driving 
along one of the green lanes that are still to be met 
with in the vicinity of London, and saw a poor woman 
gathering some chestnut-leaves. She stopped and 
asked for what purpose; the reply was, that the 
leaves were sold to the fruiterers in Covent Garden, 
to put in their baskets of fruit. On another occasion, 
it came out that women and children tore down the 
placards in the streets at night, and thus made a 
trifle by selling them as waste paper. One man dives 
in the sewers for what may be washed away. A 
capitalist buys up all the dust and ashes of the city, 
and they are sifted by women so black and grimy, 
that you could scarcely tell them to be women at all. 

There is no waste in London; everything is picked 
up and turned to account. One man buys old bones; 
another, old rags; another buys cigar-ends for snuff, 
— in short, there is nothing so mean or filthy but is 
made merchandise by the poor of London. One man 
advertises for old postage-stamps that have been used, 
on the pretence that some crusty old parent will not 
let his daughter marry till she has collected a million. 
5 



66 THE UNFINISHED GENTLEMAN. 

The pretence is a hoax; the old stamps are pasted 
together, and in some of the obscure parts of the 
town are offered you at a reduced price. The post- 
office authorities have issued a new pattern of stamp, 
because nearly one-third received had been cancelled 
and renewed. There are five or six hundred boys and 
girls called " mud larks," who live by searching the mud 
of the Thames for bones, coals, and other articles. You 
often see men who may be called " Jack-of-all-trades," 
w^ho run " herrands," " 'old yer 'oss," — reminding you 
of Billy Downey, in the "Unfinished Gentleman," 
who sold clothes-props and pins. Then in the literary 
line, carrying round newspapers, spreading knowl- 
edge and information. Then in the " wagabone " line, 
a " hactor," performing the " 'ind legs of the helephant 
fifty-three successful nights," till the chap " vot done 
the forelegs" and he happened to get into a fight 
" vile they vos hin the helephant;" and the "conse- 
kens vos, they hupset the 'ole concern," and in course 
he got the bag from the theatre; and now he "'olds 
'osses, runs herrands, blacks boots," and makes him- 
self generally useful. 

Not long since, some children were poisoned by 
drinking some belladonna. It appears they had stolen 
it out of a case in the street oJff Covent Garden, had 
put it in a bottle with water, and sold it to other chil- 
dren at a pin for a spoonful, thinking the belladonna 
was Spanish liquorice; and in this way had carried on 
an active business. ^ ■ 

Some of these little arabs are too restless and irri- 
table to be easily reclaimed ; the monotony of decent 
life is almost insupportable. If you reclaim them, 
many will contrive to get away again. 

A gentleman by the name of Driver, -^ho had been 



TEASING POLICEMEN. 67 

for years engaged in endeavoring to reclaim these 
little urchins, says that on one occasion he met some 
of them, all dirt and rags, near the IsTelson Monu- 
ment. Said he : "I addressed myself principally to 
one boy, whom some time before I had pulled from 
underneath a tarpaulin in Coyent Garden Market in 
the middle of a winter's night. He had been twice 
under my care for short periods, but gave the prefer- 
ence to a street life. I said, ' Well, Jim, are you not 
tired of this sort of life? ' ^No,' he answered with a 
grin, 'not yet; and when I am, sir, I will come to 
you.' 'Very well,' I replied; 'I suppose you will 
have your game out first.' ' Now, sir, I'll tell you 
the real truth. I'd come to you to-morrow, if you'd 
give me an ounce of 'bacca a week, some ha'pence in 
my pocket to spend, and an hour's holiday every day ; 
it would not be worth my while to do it under that — 
it would not, indeed, sir ! ' " 

All these ragged urchins have an object — and, I 
fear, but one object — of terror, and that is a police- 
man. They will teach their dogs to bark furiously at 
the word " Bobby " or " Peeler." They will tease 
them in all possible ways. A policeman brought a 
boy before a magistrate on a charge of insulting him. 
"What did he say to you?" "Oh, he said nothing 
to me." "What did he do?" "Well, he pointed at 
me, and asked another boy if he ever see a rabbit-pie 
made out of mutton." " Oh, I cannot entertain such 
a charge as that." At every accident to a policeman 
their delight is uncontrollable. "Jem, hi! Look 
'ere ! come 'ere ! sitch a lark ! Hooray ! Oh my ! 'ere's 
a perleeceman fell down on a slide ! Hooray ! ! " 

To a flashily dressed snob they are very provoking. 
"Oh my I hi! there goes eightpence out of a shil- 



68 TUEirmG A PEOT^. 

ling ! " If on horseback, so much the worse. " Hi 
there ! you'll tumble off the shop-board ! " If he is a 
timid rider, "Billy, see, 'ere's a swell; let's frighten 
'is 'oss ! " 

As witty a thing as I ever heard, was a remark 
made by one boy to another, as a showily dressed 
person passed, evidently vain of his appearance: 
" Hi ! 'ow does that 'ere chap's hat stay up, without 
nothing hunderit?" Ask this ragged little wretch, 
" Can you read? " "No; but I can stand on my 'ed 
and drink a glass of gin." A judicious old lady said, 
when a boy accosted her with " Stand on my 'ed, 
ma'am, for a penny," " No, little boy ; there's a penny 
for keeping right side upwards." Another boy, — 
"Now, my little man, what would you say, if I 
should give you a penny?" "Yy, that you vas a 
jolly old brick." " Punch " gives some very graphic 
descriptions of this class of boys. 

A stroll through the streets amazes you at the vari- 
ety of methods for " turning a penny." Everything is 
a penny, — cigar lights, pencils, sham jewelry, ingen- 
ious puzzles, and very questionable publications, which 
yield enormous profits, one of them realizing for the 
ignoble owner many thousands a year. At one time 
it is the " Devil " that is put for sale at the price of 
one penny; at another, "London Life," "London 
Gossip," or "Town Talk." There is also always a 
great sale of prints and photographs, all at one penny. 
The run on the evening papers — particularly when 
there has been a sensational miu^der, or a divorce case 
with spicy details — is immense ; and as edition after 
edition is worked off, the streets are filled with men 
and women, lads and girls, offering them for sale. In 
this way a good deal of money is made, especially by 



"MATREVIOKCAL N^WS." 69 

the venders who manage to get first in the neighbor- 
hood of the Exchange and the Mansion House, and 
thus reach a class of customers who are not particular 
in the matter of change. Unprotected females, as 
they walk down Cheapside, are exceedingly annoyed 
by the impertinence of some of these fellows, who 
thrust the " Matrimonial [N'ews " before them, as they 
bawl in stentorian tones, " Want an 'usband, marm? 
Lot's of 'usbands to be had. Only a penny ! " 

One thing to be noted is the temporary character 
of these penny salable articles. Some are to be met 
with all the year round, such as studs, cigar lights, 
pocket-books, diaries, almanacs, beetles (which, at- 
tached to an india-rubber string, dance about as if 
they were alive), india-rubber balls, specimens of 
geology, steel pens, note-paper, German toys, refresh- 
ing drinks, bird-whistles, &c. Others are dependent 
on the season, and you get wonderful flowers, — ca- 
mellias made of turnips, — apples, pears, oranges, wal- 
nuts, and slices of pineapple ; and the costermongers 
who thus cater for the million are indeed a blessing, 
as they supply the poor of the metropolis with cheap 
fruit. In the summer you have the retailer of sherbet 
and the penny ice and shell-fish; in the winter the 
same man deals in roasted chestnuts or baked pota- 
toes, or keeps a coffee-stall. All the year round, 
some enterprising individuals supply the public, who 
need to have their blood purified, with penny sarsa- 
parilla drinks. 

"When Lord Beaconsfield came back from the Ber- 
lin Congress, there was a card hawked about called 
the " European Mystery," and the puzzle was to find 
Lord Beaconsfield in the picture. 

One of the most curious efforts I heard of in Lon- 



70 ADVERTISING DODGE. 

don for "raising the wind" was the "Continental 
Advertising Refreshment Plate Company/' the aim 
of which was, to distribute neatly designed adver- 
tisements on the rims of refreshment plates, dishes, 
saucers, &c., made of porcelain, china, earthenware, 
or other material, among the different hotels and 
cafes and restaurants in the various cities and towns 
of France and Belgium. It was reckoned this was 
to be the cheapest way of advertising ever known; 
and to carry it out only £5,000 were asked, which 
the promoters, however, probably failed to obtain, as 
the company was never started. 



CHAPTEE lY, 



HIGH AND LOW LIFE IN LONDON. — CABMEN AND 
COCKNEYS. 



Cabmen of London: their Great Number — "Exact Fare" — "I shan't 
forget the Phiz " — A Dandy discomfited — Wealth of London — 
Men who have risen — " Cats'-Meat " — Where the Dead Horses 
go — Fortunes by Sharp Practice — Roguery reduced to a System — 
The Wine Business — Tricks of Trade — High Art — Auctioneers 

— Jockeyism and Horses — Bought his Own Horse — Londoner's 
Self-Esteem — " Connoisseurship in Wines " — Tricks of Professional 
Beggars — The Blind Man who could see — " Eddicatin' Dogs " 

— The Lord Mayor's Show — Hardships of the Lord Mayor's Office 

— "Who is He?" — Self-made Men — Lord Rothschild's Remark on 
" Selling Matches " — Schools of the Corporation — Disrespectful 
Children — " 'Ow is yer 'Elth?" — Inconvenience of the Letter H. 

— The Gentleman's Story — Meeting with an "Hawful Hend " — 
Dilemma of the Alderman's Daughter — The Omnibus Conductor's 
Vocabulary, 71 

a ^^^-^ HEKE is no class of men less under- 
stood than the cabmen of London. 
The general verdict is, "Oh, they'll 
-fe (|\p^"^ overcharge and bully you whenever 
o M^-^^Wl they get a chance." Not more than 
the hackrnen of 'New York. It is to 
be expected that, among twelve thou- 
sand or more men, with few advantages 
and constant exposure, meeting and deahng 
with all shades of character, that there will be some 
hard cases, and a good many. But in my experi- 
ence, with only a few exceptions, I have found them 

71 




72 "you aest't sent them oats." 

civil, and nearly always grateful for liberal treatment. 
To the screw who will pay them the " exact fare " — 
and there are many who pride themselves on always 
paying the " exact fare " of one shilling with two 
persons for a two-miles' ride — they sometimes give a 
little chaflBng. One of this class, who had paid the 
" exact fare," was asked, " Beg pardon, but are you 
all pretty much alike in your family, sir? " " Well, 
yes, a little so." " Oh, all right; I shan't forget the 
phiz, and blowed if any of you will ride in my cab 
again." On one occasion two ladies had paid the 
shilling for the two miles, with one fourpenny-bit, 
two threepenny-pieces, one penny, and two halfpence : 
cabby looked at the coins, and turning them over in 
his hand, said very insinuatingly, " "Well, how long 
might you have been saving up for this little treat? " 
They can discover the weak points in any they choose 
to chaff: as, when an exquisite dandy had handed two 
ladies into a cab, and drawled out, " Dwivah, dwive 
these ladies to 44 Manchester Square, — just two 
miles, — and here's the shilling," cabby said, "All 
right; but, I say, mister, you ain't sent them oats 
round to our place yet, that we ordered ; " which took 
him down most essentially. " Punch " gives some 
capital hits at, and illustrations of the peculiarities of 
the cabmen. 

The wealth of London is enormous, and the for- 
tunes accumulated are in their extent bewildering; 
yet many of the wealthy men in London have risen 
from obscurity. A certain late Lord Mayor, when a 
boy, swept the office of which he became the head. 
There was a member of Parliament, and a man of 
wealth, who once cleaned the shoes of one of his 
constituents. As you walk along Cheapside, you see 



cats' meat. 73 

warehouses of vast extent, filled with the costliest 
productions ; the owners of many of these places live 
in magnificent villas, yet . some of them came penni- 
less to London. It is stated that Lindsay, the well- 
known ship-owner, was a wretched, half-starved boy 
in Liverpool. Johnson Fox, who became the mem- 
ber for Oldham, was a Norwich weaver-boy. The 
late chairman of the Oriental Steam Navigation 
Company was a poor Highland laddie. I have 
heard John Cassell, the publisher, say that he came 
to London with three halfpence in his pocket; and he 
died leaving a splendid business. I suppose, from 
the days of "Whittington, such cases have been fre- 
quent. 

In America we know that very many of our rich 
men rose from obscurity and poverty; but the oppor- 
tunities and advantages for such a rise are a hundred- 
fold greater here than in England. Princely fortunes 
are made by trifles in London, as well as in New 
York. Out of the profits of his Vegetable Pills, 
Morrison purchased a splendid estate; Hollo way, of 
the world-renowned Ointment, drove in one of the 
handsomest " turn-outs " you will meet in the Strand. 
I was once riding in the suburbs, when one of the 
prettiest country houses I ever saw was pointed out 
to me; the grounds were laid out, and the very rails 
of the iron fence were gilt. I was told that the pro- 
prietor was actually a dealer in "cats' meat." He 
bought up old, sick, or dead horses, and I assure you 
he made the most of them. I was informed that he 
cut up the flesh for "cats' meat;" that, besides the 
hair and hide and bones, — the uses of which we can 
all understand, — the nostrils and hoofs were used for 
gelatine, and the blood was employed in the manu- 



74 SYSTEMATIC SWrSTDLmG. 

facture of ketchup, to which it is supposed to impart 
a delicious flavor; the livers were burned, to be 
mixed with coffee. So we see a great deal can be 
made of a dead horse. 

There, as here, fortunes are sometimes made by 
sharp practice. An intelligent lawyer once said that 
he did not believe there was such a thing as commer- 
cial morality at all — altogether a too sweeping asser- 
tion; but there is an enormous amount of unfair 
dealing, in adulteration and various other methods of 
dishonesty. The Bankruptcy Court has developed 
an immense amount of villany. The number of 
those who live by rascality is very great, and astound- 
ing disclosures are made of the almost perfect system 
by which their roguery is accomplished. There are 
no limits to the tricks and deceptions of trade. In 
one shop there is a sale going on at an enormous 
sacrifice, — but the purchaser, not the seller, makes 
it; in another, new goods are sold as second-hand. 
This is a favorite and very successful trick with the 
pawnbrokers. But of the wines, the pictures, I can 
hardly trust myself to speak. The wine, when it is 
brought into England, and before it is taken to the 
wine-merchant's cellar and pays duty, is kept in the 
docks. It undergoes a wonderful transformation. In 
one case, some wine deposited as very superior sherry 
was found to have been transmogrified into very fine 
old port. In another case, some wine that had been 
in the dock a few years, in spite of leakage and what 
had been subtracted for samples, had in a most re- 
markable manner increased in bulk. I saw an account 
of an action in which it came out that a man had 
contracted to turn a certain quantity of British wine 
into genuine sherry. 



HORSE TRADES. 75 

As to pictures, the mock-auction in which paint- 
ings — not by the old masters — are sold, is generally 
held in some leading thoroughfare. The auctioneer is 
well dressed, facetious, fluent, and well up in the slang 
of art; he can talk of the tone of this picture and 
the coloring of the other, of the chiar-oscuro, &c. 
The verdant provincial steps in, and sees what he 
believes to be a genuine picture worth hundreds 
going for as many pounds ; he bids, and immediately 
there is a furious competition. Around him are con- 
federates, whom he imagines to be strangers like 
himself: they bid against him; he becomes excited, 
and finds himself the possessor of a copy worth but 
little. 

It is the same with other auctions ; where the stran- 
ger sees the bidders quarrel, and the auctioneer re- 
fuses to interfere, he thinks the sale must be genuine, 
and buys — his belief to the contrary — at a costly 
rate. 

The deceptions in the horse-trade are still bolder 
and more ingenious. Yery often a man does not 
know his own horse when he gets it into the dealer's 
hands. I have heard of cases in which a man has 
unknowingly bought back a horse, at a high figure, 
which he had previously disposed of as almost worth- 
less. You read in the " Times " (and whenever a 
Londoner wants to know where to buy anything, he 
is sure to look in the advertising columns of the 
^' Times ") that a horse, quiet to ride and drive, the 
property of a gentleman who has no further use for 
him, is to be parted with; you are referred to a cer- 
tain livery stable; you see the animal, as strong and 
showy a beast as you can possibly desire; indeed, it 
is vamped and doctored in a wonderful manner; if 



76 CONKOISSEURS IK WESTE. 

slow, it is made to run fast, if lame, to walk; the 
horse strikes you as like Barry CornwalFs Gamana — 

" Strong, black, and of the desert breed. 
Full of fire and full of bone, 
All his line of fathers known ; 
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin. 
But blown abroad by the pride within ; 
His mane a stormy river flowing. 
And his eyes like embers glowing 
In the darkness of the night ; 
And his pace as swift as light." 

While you are admiring this creature of man's in- 
genuity, a groom in livery comes into the yard for 
some well-known nobleman, or public character anx- 
ious to secure this horse at any price; but the dealer 
has offered him to you, and he wDn't deviate from his 
word. You buy the animal, and, when you get him 
home, you find out your mistake. Sometimes the 
confederate is a commercial traveller: he happens to 
come into the yard just as you are examining the 
horse ; he seems so respectable a man, and so fond of 
his horse, and so reluctant to part with it, that you 
are completely thrown off your guard. 

The Londoner of a certain class, however, is never 
deprived of his self-esteem; he is a judge of every- 
thing; especially he prides himself on being a judge 
of wine, spirits, and porter. I give you a fact. Three 
gentlemen were dining together at the house of one 
of them, and after dinner a bottle of claret was pro- 
duced. The connoisseurs turned up their noses, and 
declared it would not do. Their host was very sorry; 
apologized; said he would give them a bottle of a 
better sort: he stepped down into his (?ellar, and, 
without their knowledge, gave them a bottle of the 
same kind. "Ah!" said the connoisseurs, "that is 



THEODOEE HOOK. 77 

beautiful; that has the real bouquet; that is the real 
thing ! " So much for connoisseurship in wine. Every 
London tavern-keeper could tell scores of similar 
tales. A great judge of wine, a nobleman, had placed 
before him a bottle of champagne and a bottle of 
gooseberry wine. The noble lord was requested to 
judge which was the genuine article. He, after much 
consideration, gave the preference to the gooseberry 
wine. In England, at dinner time, when wine is 
served at table, the custom was for one gentleman to 
say to another, or to a lady, " Sir, (or madam,) may 
I have the pleasure of taking a glass of wine with 
you?" ""With pleasure." The glasses are then filled, 
and, as they drink, they look at each other and bow. 
Theodore Hook was once observed, during a dinner 
at Hatfield House, nodding like a Chinese mandarin 
in a tea-shop. On being asked the reason, he said, 
"When no one asks me, I take sherry with the 
epergne^ and bow to the flowers." 

As I am speaking of drinking, I would here refer 
to the celebrated " whitebait," — a sound very musical 
to Cockney ears. To the large taverns at Blackwall 
and Greenwich gourmands flock to eat " whitebait," 
— a delicious little fish caught in the reach of the 
Thames, and directly netted out of the river into the 
frying-pan. They appear about the end of March, 
or early in April, and are taken every flood-tide till 
September. The fashion of eating them is sanctioned 
by the highest authority, from the Court of St. James 
in the west, to the Court of the Lord Mayor in the 
east. The Cabinet winds up the parliamentary ses- 
sion with an annual whitebait dinner, to which they 
go in an ordnance barge or government steamer. 
Whitebait are eaten with lemon and brown bread and 



78 FASHIONABLE ECONOMY. 

butter. I believe that, after all, there is not much in 
them, but that gentlemen make a whitebait dinner an 
excuse for a run out of town, little bit of holiday, and 
for drinking champagne and iced punch. 

London is not a cheap place to live in; yet an 
economical man, I believe, may live as cheaply there 
as in any city in the world. He may read all the 
newspapers and magazines for a penny; he may pass 
the day in exhibitions and museums without spending 
a farthing; he may find a decent bedroom for five 
shillings a week, and may dine comfortably for a shil- 
ling. Mr. Wellesley Pole used to say it was impos- 
sible to live in England under £4,000 a year. Mr. 
Brummel told a lady of rank, who asked him how 
much she ought to allow her son for dress, that it 
might be done for £800 a year, with strict economy. 
Mr. Senior, in an article in the " Encyclopaedia Met- 
ropolitana," stated that a carriage for a woman of 
fashion must be regarded as one of the necessaries of 
life ; and every young swell must have his brougham, 
his man, and his own establishment. But a great 
deal is done on credit. " What a clever man my son 
is ! " said an English gentleman, speaking of the well- 
known Tom Duncombe. " I allow him £300 a year, 
and he spends £3,000!" 

The tricks of the professional beggars are almost 
inconceivable. They will simulate every disease under 
the sun. Sometimes they are thrown off their guard. 
A man was standing with a board in front of him, 
with the inscription, " I am blind," when a gentleman 
threw a shilling on the ground: the blind man in- 
stantly picked it up. The gentleman said, " Why, I 
thought you were blind." The fellow, after a mo- 
ment's hesitation, looked at his board, and then said, 



"l EDDICATE DOGS." 79 

" I'm blessed if they haven't made a mistake, and put 
a wrong board on me this morning! I'm deaf and 
dumb ! " A man, being led by a dog, was accosted 
by a policeman : " You're not blind." " Yell, yot if 
I ain't? " " What are you going through the streets 
for with that dog?" " Yy, Lor' bless ye, I eddicate 
dogs for blind men." 

I must say a word or two about the Lord Mayor, 
and the Lord Mayor's Show, which I saw during my 
recent visit, and which seemed to me more popular 
than ever, and about as silly. For the day, business 
is almost suspended. At an early hour the leading 
streets are closed to traffic; the shop-windows are 
filled with young people and their papas and mammas 
and older relatives. The streets are crowded with 
spectators all the way from the city to "Westminster 
Hall, where the Lord Mayor is officially introduced to 
the judges, and invites them to dinner. I suppose 
a million of people come to see the Lord Mayor's 
Show, which returns by the Thames Embankment — 
a famous place for a crowd, and where generally, in 
spite of the police, there is a good deal of horse-play 
on such occasions, as it is there the riffi:'aff of the 
metropolis love to meet. The Lord Mayor of Lon- 
don, for the time being, is the first man in the city; 
and by the city I mean the busy hive of industry de- 
voted entirely to business, in which few people live, 
situated between what was known as Aldgate Pump, 
in the east, and Temple Bar, in the west. He has 
usually a hard life of it, as for the year of office he is 
chairman of almost everything that goes on in the 
city ; even his Sundays he cannot call his own, as on 
that day he is generally expected to attend, in state, 
some city church on the occasion of a charity sermon. 



80 LORD MAYOR OF LONDON". 

He has the Mansion House to live in, and has some 
twelve thousand pounds allowed him to spend, which 
he generally spends, and often a good deal more. I 
have been informed that he gives a bond of £4,000 
for the plate. He is much thought of in foreign 
parts — more than in London, where it is the fashion 
of the great city merchants to look down upon the 
corporation, and where the city is, as regards size and 
population, such a small section of the great metrop- 
olis itself; but to the eyes of foreigners, the Lord 
Mayor of London is a mighty personage indeed. 

Earl Russell told Lord Albemarle that when, as 
a young man, the late Lord Romilly visited Paris, 
at a time when he was giving promise of making a 
figure at the English bar, some French friend said to 
him, "To what dignities may you not aspire! You 
may become Lord Chancellor; who knows? even," 
he added, " Lord Mayor of London ! " Twice the 
Lord Mayor has paid the French metropolis a visit, 
and on each time great was the sensation he pro- 
duced. On the first occasion, — that is, after the 
Exhibition of 1851, — the '' Journal des Debats " ob- 
served that his " physiognomy implied deference and 
respect." Another spoke of his appearance as indi- 
cating the possession of good and loyal sentiments. 
As the municipal procession made its way through 
the streets, the " gamins " in the crowd shouted, "A 
has VaristocratP There was one person, however, 
whom all conspired to honor, and that was the Lord 
Mayor's coachman, in his state livery, all gold and 
silver, silk and velvet. I suppose he is more orna- 
mental than useful, as the grand grooms on each side 
of the six horses take care that they shall go right ; 
but he is a sight, with his gold cap and grand bouquet 



MAXma A FOETUNE. 81 

of costly flowers, his silk stockings, and his shoes 
with silver buckles, his scarlet face, ■— for he is gen- 
erally what is called a good liver, though his own 
liver may be ever so bad. " Who is he? " anxiously 
asked the French, as he passed along. The reply of 
one, who appeared to be — or pretended to be — 
better informed than the rest, was, that he was the 
Lord Mayor's chief chasseur^ who attended his lord- 
ship on all his hunting expeditions ! I can assure 
you the Lord Mayor of London finds very little time 
to go a-hunting, even if he had the inclination and 
the means. Many of the Lord Mayors are self-made 
men, and began the world quite low in the social 
scale. In all England, as everywhere else, " it is the 
hand of the diligent that maketh rich ; " and the 
people who begin the world with half a crown in 
their pockets, and so make a fortune, are almost as 
plentiful in London as they are in America, or any- 
where else, and deserve as much credit, if obtained 
honestly. 

One day, a lady who was seated next to the great 
Eothschild at a dinner party, kept tormenting him by 
asking what business she should put her son to, in 
order to make a fortune. " Madam," was the reply, 
" selling matches is a good business if you sell enough 
of them." And so it is. Only a year or two ago, 
there died in the city of London, a Jew who was 
worth a million at the time of his decease. He began 
with lucifer matches, thence he went on to pencils, 
and so on till he got into the wool trade, and died 
rich, as I have said. It is from such men as these 
that the ranks of the Lord Mayors of London are 
recruited. 

There are many schools in and about London, be- 
6 



82 ^V'ow IS YER 'elth?" 

longing to the great city companies, under the patron- 
age of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, who visit them 
on the occasion of the distribution of prizes. I have 
been told that it is occasionally quite amusing, after the 
Lord Mayor and his friends have left, when the cere- 
mony is over, to find the scholars — especially the girls 
— taking off the defects of their illustrious visitors, 
saying to one another, " 'Ow is yer 'elth ? " " Give 
us yer 'and." I am told that such is a fact often tak- 
hig place, and will be, till the corporation of London 
is reformed, and Lord Mayors are elected by a wider 
mass of citizens, and not as now by a mere handful. 

It is really comical the work the cockneys make 
with the letter h ; not only the cockneys, but many in 
other parts of the province. I was once at a gentle- 
man's house, surrounded with all that wealth could 
procure, — pictures, plate, an elegant residence, — 
and the gentleman said to me, " He met with an 
hawful hend; he was riding near the railway, and 'is 
'orse threw 'im hover 'is 'ed, and the hengine run 
hover 'im, and mashed 'im to hattoms." 

I was told that not long since a London alderman 
gave a grand garden party at his beautiful seat in the 
picturesque village of Highgate, where Coleridge 
lived, and where Lady Burdett Coutts now lives. 
The Alderman had a handsome daughter, who, when 
taken out to lunch by a West End swell, quite per- 
plexed him by innocently asking him, " Do you think 
I get pretty? " She was thinking of " Highgate," 
and not of herself." 

I heard of an omnibus conductor that was calling 
out, — 

" 'Ere ye are, 'ighgate, 'ighgate; hall for 'ighgate." 

Some one said, — 



"'a'-penky a mile." 83 

" You've dropped something." 

'* Vot 'ave I dropped? " 

"Only someH's." 

" Oh! that's nothing; I'll pick 'em up ven I gets to 
^Islington." 

Two costers were looking at a railway time-table. 

"Say, Jem," said one of them, "vot's P. M. 
mean?" 

" Vy? penny a mile, to be sure." 

"Veil, vot's A.M.?" 

" 'A'-penny a mile, to be sure! " 



CHAPTEE V. 

JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE. — SCENES IN THE CEIMINAL 
COUBTS OF LONDON. 

The Old Bailey — A Complete Establishment — "Tried in Drawing- 
Room; hanged in Back Kitchen" — A Criminal Trial, a Sensation 
Drama — Waiting for the Verdict — Atmosphere of the Dock — 
Crime shown in the Face — The Ragged Youth and his Counsel — 
— Police Courts — Ludicrous Scenes — Women's Quarrels — " The 
Love-lorn Widder" — Supporting Nine Children — The Irishman's 
Family at the Bar — Disagreeing Evidence — Children hired out 
to Beggars — The Magistrate and the Chimney Sweep — Drunken- 
ness the Path to the Police Court — " Taking in " People — Bird 
Fanciers cheated — Painted Sparrows — Uncertainty of the Law — 
The Thief and his Cherries — Barnacles — Expense of the Civil 
Service — Government Leeches — The Mysterious Warning — Pre- 
mium on Idleness — "How not to do it," 84 

HE Old Bailey is one of the institu- 
tions of London, associated with greasy 
squalor, and crime of every descrip- 
tion; a cold, bleak-looking prison, with 
an awful little iron door, three feet or 
so from the ground. The Central 
Criminal Court is ''par excellence " the 
criminal court of the country. It is said 
that more innocent men are charged with 
crime, and more guilty men escape, at the Old Bailey, 
than at any other court in the kingdom. It is said 
that the Old Bailey barrister is loud of voice and in- 
solent in manner. The Old Bailey is very compact. 

84 




THE OLD BAILEY. 

You can be detained there between the time of your 
committal and your trial; you can be tried there, 
sentenced there, and comfortably hanged and buried 
there. Since there are no more public executions, 
there is no occasion to go outside the four walls ; as 
some one has said, " You are tried in the drawing- 
room, confined in the scullery, and hanged in the 
back kitchen." 

A criminal trial is a fearfully interesting sight, — a 
real sensation drama; as the case draws to a close, it 
grows more exciting: the charge to the jury; the 
waiting for the verdict; the sharp, anxious k ^k the 
prisoner casts around him as they render the verdict: 
see the compressed lips and contracted brow, and 
listen to the great, deep sigh as he learns the worst! 
Then the sentence! The silence is awful, — broken^ 
perhaps, by a woman's shriek; and all is over, as far 
as the spectator is concerned. It is said that the 
atmosphere of the dock invests the very countenance 
of one who may happen to be in it. A well-known 
counsel who was defending a singularly ill-favored 
prisoner said to the jury, *' Gentlemen, you must not 
allow yourselves to be carried away by any effect 
which the prisoner's appearance may have upon you. 
Remember he is in the dock; and I will undertake to 
say, that if my lord were to be taken from the bench 
and placed where the prisoner is now standing, you 
would find, even in his lordship's face, indications of 
crime which you would look for in vain in any other 
situation." 

There is a curious tale of a youth whose ragged 
head was frequently to be seen in the dock of the 
Old Bailey. It turns upon the affection of the crim- 
inal for his pet counsel, and his utter dishke to be 



8& BOW STEEET POLICE-OFFICE. 

defended by any one else. The youth had appeared 
in the dock after having been at large only a short 
time, and immediately objected to the case being pro- 
ceeded with, as he was not properly represented by 
counsel. The judge pointed out to him that that 
must not be allowed to delay the trial. The pupil of 
Fagin replied, " That won't do, my lord; my counsel 

is Mr. , (naming a well-known barrister,) and 

I cannot be tried without him." The judge postponed 
the case till the next day, when the same little scene 
was enacted, and the young rogue maintained that he 
had paid for his counsel, and that he would be de- 
fended by Mm, and by no one else. At length, after 
several similar delays, the case was adjourned until 
the next session, when the barrister whom the "young 
gentleman" had paid for appeared, and succeeded in 
obtaining an acquittal. 

In the many police-courts of London are to be wit- 
nessed some queer scenes, and some phases of human- 
ity that can be seen nowhere else. Go to Bow 
Street or Worship Street; and there, as has been said, 
sits an educated gentleman, receiving £1,200 per 
year, settling petty squabbles between quarrelsome 
women, as part of the duties of his office. The most 
ludicrous scenes take place during the testimony. 
Take the following as recorded. A woman appears 
as a complainant for an assault: the defendant is 
placed in the bar. 

His Worship: "Well." 

Woman: "Please yer 'onor, this woman at the bar, 
if she can call herself such — " 

" Now, no reflection on the defendant, if you 
please." 



"mes. finch told me." 87 

" "Well, sir, ever since last Tuesday week, come last 
Christmas — " 

" Never mind about Christmas ; tell us what hap- 
pened." 

" Please yer worship,, she told Mr. Waters — " 

" Don't bother us with what she said to Mr. Waters; 
tell us what she said to you,''^ 

" Well, sir, Mrs. Finch told me — " 

" Never mind what Mrs. Finch told you." 

" Please yer worship, I'm a lone, 'lorn widder, with- 
out an 'usband to pertect my character, and I lives by 
working 'ard at the tub for the support of nine chil- 
dren, four living and five dead, and ever since that 
female," &c. 

The magistrate was compelled to let her tell her 
story her own way. 

Take another reported case. A forlorn-looking 
Irishman, accompanied by his wife and two children, 
is found begging, contrary to law. When brought 
before the magistrate, they are examined separately, 
the wife first, the others being out of the court. 

"Now, my good woman, that's your husband, is 
it? " 

"Yes, please yer 'onor; and a honest, hard-work- 
ing — " 

"Never mind that. When were you married to 
him?" 

"When, yer 'onor? Well, about twelve years ago, 
and I — " 

" Where did the marriage take place? " 

"Did ye say where? Yes, sir, I think it was in 
Tipperary, and hard work it was — " 

" What is your husband's name? " 

" His name, yer 'onor? Macarty, yer 'onor." 



88 "ax my wife." 

" "What was your name before you were married to 
him? '' 

" Cromartie, yer 'onor." 

"Are these your only children in twelve years? " 

" Well, yer 'onor, they are ,the only darlings left to 
us; or there would have been five, but for the three 
that were taken from us by the typhus ; and a trouble 
it was to raise the money — " 

" Call in the man." 

" What's your name? " 

" Kelly, yer 'onor." 

" Oh, I thought it was Maearty." 

" So it is, yer 'onor; I didn't know it was my other 
name ye were axing for." 

"And so this woman is your wife, is she? " 

" Yes, yer 'onor; and a hardworking — " 

" Wait a bit. What was her name before you were 
married? " 

"Well, yer 'onor, I hardly remember, for it was 
a long time ago." 

"A long time ago? " 

" Not exactly that; I meant about seven years ago, 
and it's a long time to remember a name that you have 
no further use for." 

" Oh, then you've been married seven years? " 

"About that; but if ye'll ax my wife — " 

" Where were you married? " 

"I'm not sure, yer 'onor; I've a bad memory; but 
if ye'll ax my wife — " 

" Surely you remember where you were married? " 

" Well then, I think it was Dublin, to the best of 
my belief." 

" Then if your wife said Cork — " 

" Oh, certainly; yes, Cork it was." 



"i'm no scholae." 89 

" How many children have you? " 

" There is the two darlings in court to-day, yer 
'onor." 

" Oh, but haven't you lost some children? " 

The woman, who has remained in court, slyly holds 
up three fingers. 

" Please yer 'onor, I did not think of the three that 
died with the measles." 

" But how many have you had? " 

The woman holds up five fingers; the man mistakes 
her meaning. 

"Well, I never thought to mention the five we 
have in service." 

"How many children do you make of it alto- 
gether?" 

" Please yer 'onor, I'm no hand at calculations ; but 
if ye'll ax — " 

"I think I can help you. Two here to-day, three 
dead, five in service, — that makes ten, — ten children 
in seven years! Can you explain that? " 

""Well yer 'onor, I'm no scholar; but if ye'll ax my 
wife " — 

" Stand down; put the boy in the box " — 

"Now, boy, look at me; where's your father and 
mother?" 

" Please sir, my father's in jail, and my mother sells 
oranges in the street." 

And so it turns out that these children are rented 
at sixpence a day to these street beggars, and they 
are committed as rogues 'and vagabonds. 

One can always see or hear something amusing in 
a police court. When I was in the city, the follow- 
ing dialogue took place between a sweep, who was as 
black as an African, and the presiding magistrate. 



90 A PAINTED SPAEEOW. 

Said the latter, " My good man, how often do you 
wash yourself ? " 

" Once a week, regular, whether I wants it or not." 

"Well, you might wash yourself more often, I 
think." 

" I cleans myself of a Sunday, sir." 

The sweep was evidently a strict disciplinarian; 
there was no shrinking from the weekly tub, no 
namby-pamby thoughts that perhaps it might be as 
well to postpone the painful operation till a warmer 
day. No, the sweep was above all that. And you can 
see some heart-rending cases of brutality, especially 
to women. Drunkenness brings nine-tenths of the 
cases to the police court. A few weeks ago, a cler- 
gyman of the Church of England was brought up 
and fined five shillings for drunkenness. The next 
case was a physician, fined the same sum and costs 
for the same offence ; and in another court that day, 
one, who called himself a gentleman, and refused to 
give his name, was committed for drunkenness. Ah I 
If I should go on, I could fill page after page with 
the records of the doings of drink. 

Some people are easily taken in. In horse trades, 
all tricks seem to be lawful. It is just the same in 
London with the birds. The latest example of this 
kind of swindling was exposed lately in a London 
police court. The swindler was charged with obtain- 
ing a watch from a pot-man, by palming off on him a 
painted sparrow for a piping bullfinch. "When the 
next morning came, the imposition was detected. 
There was a further charge against the same person 
of obtaining a diamond ring, value £10, from a 
medical student, by pretending that a common star- 
ling was a rare American bird. Of course the pris- 



THE BAENACLES. 91 

oner was convicted; but doubtless he had taken many 
people in, in a similar manner. 

The glorious uncertainty of the law was illustrated 
about the same time, in the case of a William Smith, 
charged with walking off from Covent Garden with a 
basket of cherries without the owner's consent. In 
mitigation, he pleaded that the porter ought to have 
stopped him sooner, and not to have allowed him to 
go so far. The vindication apparently satisfied the 
court, and he was discharged, when he said, " Vould 
yer lordship give me a few coppers, as I have only 
twopence-halfpenny in the world." Actually, the 
judge and jury and counsel took up a collection for 
his benefit. There is another tale told in which the 
case did not end quite so happily for the defendant, 
who had stolen a piece of bacon, and was asked how 
far he had carried it. " O, only a hundred yards or 
so, yer lordship," was the man's reply. " Ah, well," 
said the judge meditatively, "then I am afraid you 
have carried the joke a little too far. Three months' 
imprisonment." 

It was Dickens who gave the name of Barnacle to 
the officials and employees in the public offices ; and 
I believe that many are still making John Bull bleed 
pretty freely, by giving him as little work as they 
possibly can for their money. In 1857-58, the sum 
required for the civil service was £14,300,000. In 
1877-78, the estimates were ^£23,400,000, being an 
increase of £9,000,000 during a period of what was 
termed reorganization and retrenchment. A little 
while ago, a new writer was appointed to work with 
the Barnacles in the custom-house. He says that 
when he took to his work in the way he was accus- 
tomed to do it in the city warehouses, every eye was 



92 .HOW NOT TO DO IT. 

turned upon him, with an expression of the deepest 
pity and amazement. Suddenly, a bit of paper fell upon 
his book; the writing on it ran thus, — "A nod's as 
good as a wink to a blind horse." The new hand 
says he went on with his work harder than ever. 
Then came another bit of paper, — " Why work so 
desperately hard? Nobody works hard here." Re- 
gardless of the advice, he kept on writing as if he 
were in a commercial warehouse in the city. 

In a few minutes, an angry voice sounded in his 
ear: "For God's sake, man, don't work like that; 
you'll have the whole office against you, and you 
won't do yourself a bit of good." 

" Indeed! " was the reply. 

" Yes, it is a fact. Nobble's got to give you the 
next book when you've done, and he won't be ready 
for you before next Saturday." 

!N"ow the natural query of the new employee was, 
how he should kill the remaining time. 

" "Why," said the older Barnacle, " look about you, 
read the papers, do a bit, then stop and rest. If you 
don't, all the fellows in the Barnacle office will be 
dead against you." It was there, the man tells us, 
that he first learned his lesson in " how not to do it." 
He began to look about him, and to dawdle over his 
work. Somehow he discovered, as he confessed, that 
to look about him and to daily grumble, are the chief 
occupations of her Majesty's Barnacles. 



CHAPTEK VI. 

LIFE AMON'G COSTEEMONGEES, BEGGAES, AND 
THIEVES. — SCENES AT YICTOEIA THEATEE. 

The Costermongers — '* Picking up Crusts " — Street Fellowship — 
Eeligion and Eespectability — Kindness appreciated — Children 
near Houndsditch — The Coster Boy — In Business for Himself — 
ChaflSng a " Peeler " — Forgiveness a Eare Trait — The Coster Girl 

— Profound Ignorance — Forced to Cheat — "It's werry 'ard, isn't 
it, Sir? " — Shaming the Donkey — Costennonger's Education — 
Victoria Theatre — The Multitude of Boys and Girls — Excitements 
in the Gallery — " Pull hup that 'ere Vinder Blind " — " Light up the 
Moon " — Eeception of a Tragedy — Whitechapel and Butchers' Row 

— Scene of a Saturday Night — Penny Gaflf or Theatre — Dirt, Smoke, 
and Vulgarity — " 'Ere's yer Pannyrammar " — " Legitimit Dramay " 

— Eatcliffe Highway — Ballad Singers — Street Scenes — Catching 
Sailors — The Sailor's "Futtergruff" — Beer Houses and Gin Shops 

— Beggars and Thieves — Inside a Thieves' Lodging House — The 
Countryman's Adventure, . . 93 



fOSTEEMONGERS deserve a passing 
notice. They are a large and varied 
lass, numbering some sixty thousand, 
een nowhere else but in London or 
ome of the larger towns of England, 
['hey pick up their living in the street, 
ling anything by which they may, as 
saying is, " pick up a crust." 
Charles Knight, in his " London," says: " The cos- 
termonger was originally an apple-seller; a particu- 

93 



94 COSTERMONGERS. 

lar kind of apple, called a costard, gaye them their 
name." 

The working life of a coster is spent in the streets, 
and his leisure very much devoted to the beer-shop, 
the dancing-room, and the theatre; yet there are ex- 
ceptions, some of them being very sober, orderly, 
God-fearing people. Home has few attractions to a 
man whose life is a street-life. They have their own 
beer-shops, theatres, and other places of amusement. 
They are rather exclusive, and like to be let alone. 
They are true to each other. If a coster falls ill, and 
gets into the hospital, he is visited by scores of his 
fellows. 

Religion is rather a puzzle to the costermongers. 
They see people coming out of church, and, as they 
are mostly well-dressed, they somehow mix up being 
religious with being respectable, and have a queer 
sort of a feeling about it. They will listen to the 
street-preacher; but I think the most unimpressible 
of all with whom I have been brought into contact, 
on purely moral and religious subjects, are the Lon- 
don costermongers. They do not understand how it 
is possible that you can feel any interest in their spir- 
itual welfare ; but if you relieve the necessities of any 
one in distress, you are at once popular. 

Once near Houndsditch I saw some poor, pinched 
little creatures playing in the gutter. I said to one, 
"Do you want an orange?" The child looked up, 
half timid, half scared, and said nothing. I stepped 
up to the stand and took an orange, and offered it to 
the child; it was at once taken; and then they flocked 
around me, and I must have given twenty or thirty 
oranges away, when I saw a group of costers looking 
on. As I left the crowd, the men gave a hurrah, and 



SHAEP AS TEEEEEES. 95 

said, "That's a gentleman;" whereas if I had offered 
them a tract, I might have had some chaffing. But 
the city missionaries, of whom I shall speak in another 
chapter, are doing great good among them. 

The life of a coster-boy is a hard one from morning 
till night: at first hallooing for his father, then in 
business for himself with a barrow; next he looks 
out for a girl to keep house for him. Very many are 
not married to the women with whom they live, yet 
they are very jealous, and sometimes behave very 
badly to the girl. One fellow about sixteen said to 
Mr. Mayhew, " If I seed my gal a-talking to another 
chap, rd fetch her sich a punch of the 'ed as 'ud 
precious soon settle that matter." 

These boys are very keen; as an old coster said, 
" These young 'uns are as sharp as terriers, and learns 
the business in half no time. I know vun, hate years 
old, that'll chaff a peeler monstrous sewere." 

As I said, they have strange ideas about religion. 
In the " London Labor and London Poor " there are 
very many interesting details in reference to this class, 
and several conversations between Mr. Mayhew and 
the street-folk are reported. One of them said, "I 
'ave heerd about Christianity; but if a cove vos to 
fetch me a lick of the 'ed, I'd give it to 'im again, 
vether he was a little vun or a big 'un." The idea of 
forgiving injuries and loving enemies seems to them 
absurd. One said, " I'd precious soon see a henemy 
of mine shot afore I'd forgive 'im." Said another, 
" I've heerd of this 'ere creation you speaks about. 
In coorse God Almighty made the world, but the 
bricklayers made the 'ouses; that's my opinion. I 
heerd a little about the Saviour : they seem to say He 
vos a goodish sort of a man; but if He says that a 



96 " it's "weery 'aed oit us." 

cove is to forgive a feller as 'its 'im, I should say that 
He knows nothing about it." Another said, " I know 
they says in the Lord's Prayer, ' Forgive us our tres- 
passes as we forgive them;' but no coster can't 
do it." 

The coster-girl's life is very sad : her time, from her 
earliest years, is fully occupied in doing or getting 
something. " Education? vy, that von't earn a gal a 
living ! " Mind, heart, soul, all absorbed in the strug- 
gle to live ! One of the coster-girls said, in reply to 
some questions, " Father told me that God made the 
world, and the first man and woman; but that must 
have been more than a hundred years ago. Father 
told us that the Saviour gin poor people a penny loaf 
and a bit of fish vonce; which shows He was a werry 
kind gentleman. He made the ten commandments 
and the miracles." "When questioned on the principle 
of forgiveness, she said, " I don't think I could for- 
give a henemy. I don't know vy, excep' I'm poor and 
never learned." Said another girl, " It seems to me 
vonderful that this 'ere vorld vos made in six days. 
I should have thought that London vould have took 
up double that time. If ve cheats, ve shan't go to 
'even; but it's werry 'ard on us, 'cos customers vants 
happles for less than they cost us, so ve're forced to 
shove in bad 'uns with the good 'uns ; and if we've to be 
shut out of 'even for that, it's werry 'ard, isn't it, sir? " 

There are grades among the coster-mongers, some 
of them more intelligent than this; sometimes they 
keep donkeys, and are occasionally very kind to them. 
Driving up Holborn Hill, one of these donkeys, in 
spite of all coaxing, refused to go farther; so the 
man took the animal out of the shafts, and began 
pulling the cart up the hill. Some one asked why he 



YICTOEIA THEATRE. 97 

did that. "Oh, I'm trying to shame 'im into it." 
Some drive a barrow, and many carry their loads on 
their heads. They are a pecuhar folk, and we mourn 
over the ignorance and immorality of this large class ; 
but we shall be less surprised at it if we visit their 
places of amusement, or what may be called their 
" educational institutions." 

Yictoria theatre is the great place of amusement 
for a coster-monger. By a little management, we get 
a seat in the side or sixpenny gallery. On an attrac- 
tive night, the rush to the threepenny gallery of the 
"Yic" (as it is called) is awful. "We have a good 
view of them. It is the largest gallery in London; 
it will hold 1,500 to 2,000 persons. The majority of 
visitors are lads from twelve to fifteen years of age, 
and young girls are very plentiful. When the theatre 
is well packed, it is usual to see crowds of boys on 
each other's shoulders at the back of the gallery. As 
you look up the vast slanting mass of heads, each one 
appears on the move. The huge heap dotted with 
faces, spotted with white shirt sleeves, almost pains 
the eye ; and when they clap their hands, the twinkling 
nearly blinds you. The men take off their coats, and 
the bonnets of the women are hung over the iron rail- 
ing in front ; and one of the amusements of the lads is 
to pitch orange peel and nutshells into them — a good 
aim being rewarded with shouts of laughter. "When 
the orchestra begins, you cannot hear the music. It 
is laughable to see the puffed cheeks of the trumpet- 
ers, the quick sawing of the fiddlers, the rise and fall 
of the drum-sticks, and to hear no music. But we 
have not come for music or performance, but to see 
this wonderful audience, — to be seen nowhere else 
than in the galleries of the "Victoria." Hear them! 
7 



98 A PEira^YWOETH OF LIVELINESS. 

" Bill, Holloa! " " What's hup? " " Where's Sal? " 
"Ha, ha, ha. Bob!" "Holloa!" Look! see that 
boy coming actually over the heads of the mass; he 
must roll over into the pit below! No, they catch 
him! See the confusion! There's a fight; every 
man rises from his seat; a dozen pair of arms fall to; 
and the whole gallery moves about like eels, with 
shouts, and screams of " Bravo ! " 

In the midst of all this uproar, the curtain rises, 
when there are cries of " Order ;" " Silence ;" " Down 
in front;" "Hats hoff." They fall into their places 
as merry as if nothing had happened. If the curtain 
is not high enough to suit them, they will sing out. 
" Pull hup that 'ere vinder-blind ; " " Higher the 
blue ; " " Light up the moon." To the orchestra, 
the minute the curtain is down, " ISTow, then, catgut- 
scrapers, give us a pennyworth of liveliness." The 
" Yic " gallery is not moved by sentiment; a hornpipe 
or a terrific combat is sure to be encored. A grand 
banquet on the stage is certain to call forth, " Here, 
give us a bit of that 'ere?" All afiecting situations 
are interrupted with," Blow that," or else the vo- 
ciferous cry of " 0-r-d-a-r-e." The heroine begging 
for her father's life is told to " Speak hup, hold gal ! " 
But if the heroine should turn up her cuffs, and seize 
on one or two soldiers and shake them by the collar, 
the enthusiasm would know no bounds, and " Go it, 
my tulip," would resound from every throat. Comic 
songs and dances are popular; and during a highland 
fling, the stamping of feet, beating time, and the 
whistling drown the music. But the great hit of the 
evening is when a song is to be sung in which all can 
join in the chorus. While the solo is rendered, all is 
still. If any one should break in before the time, the 



CUHIOUS PERFOEMANCE. 99 

cry is "0-r-d-a-a-r," and at the proper time the noise is 
almost deafening. Sometimes the singer on the stage 
will give the cue, " Now, then, gentlemen, the Hexeter 
'all touch, if you please," beating time with his hand, 
to their uncontrollable delight, and there is sure to be 
an encore to that. Occasionally, a heavy tragedy is 
tolerated, and sometimes in parts listened to; but a 
terrific combat must be introduced in something of 
this style, with accompaniments. 

Actor, "Ha! say est thou?" 

A.udience. ( Get over on fotlier side.) 

Actor. "Aye! by the mass." 

Audience. {Cut away, liold feller.) 

Actor. " Have at thee, then." 

Audience. {Go it, tights.) 

Actor. " Thy life or mine." 

Audience. {Play Tiup, fusic.) ' 

Actor. " Blood shall wipe out blood." 

And at it they go, striking one another's swords : 
the more fire they strike out, the better. One, two, 
three; keeping time, advancing and retreating; one 
makes a blow at the other's feet, who, jumping a yard 
high, comes down with his hands on his knees, crying 
out, " !N'o, ye don't," to the rapturous applause of the 
audience, after a sword exercise, reminding you of 
" Crummies " in " ^Nicholas ]^ickleby." One falls ; the 
other, about to dispatch him, is prevented by some 
heroine; they separate with — 

" "We shall meet again. Sir Count." 

Then, if the tragedy is very heavy, they mil hear 
it, especially if the actor mouths and rants. This is 
a favorite style: 

" Ha-ha-ha-ha, what have I — ha-ha — to do — ha- 
ha-ha — with — ha-ha — happiness." 



100 DOWN WHITECHAPEL WAY. 

Sometimes they will join in a running accompani- 
ment, and woe to the actor who shall lose his temper. 
The great object seems to be to make the tragedian 
laugh. Some poor luckless wight perhaps is cast for 
Kichard III., and the performance commences some- 
thing like this : 

" ]^ow is the winter of our discontent — " 
Q' Louder! Louder! ''old Inq? yer ^ed.^^) 
" Made glorious summer by this sun of York." 
Q' Hooray! Brayvo^ old feller ! ^^) 
" And all the clouds that lowered above our house " 
Q'Meauw; Bow-wow; Hooray !^^) 
" In the deep bosom of the ocean buried." 
(" Bloio that ^ere; lioff^ hoff^ hooray ! did yer go to 
the funeral? ''^) and so on, whenever this poor victim 
makes his appearance. Sometimes these actors are 
mere sticks. I heard of one who rendered the pas- 
sage — 

" Instead of mounting barbed steeds. 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries," &c., 



thus — 



Instead of mounting hare bedsteads, 
To fright," &c. 



Let us take a run down to Whitechapel, past St. 
Paul's, through Cheapside, strike up Cornhill, cross 
Grace Church Street! Oh, how fascinating to me is 
a night ride or stroll in London streets ! We cross the 
Minories and we are in Butchers' Eow,^ Whitechapel. 
The gas glares from primitive tubes on a long vista of 
meat, meat, meat everywhere — legs, loins, shoulders, 
ribs, hearts, livers, kidneys — buy, buy, buy. Along 
the whole line are every description of butchers cry- 
ing out ''buy, buy." Women are here by scores, 

* Part of this description I have borrowed from "Household Words." 



butchers' row. 101 

pretty, ugly, old, young — all chaffering, higgling, 
beating down, and joking. On the opposite side of 
the pavement are the interminable lines of trucks, bar- 
rows, baskets, boards on trestles laden with oysters, 
vegetables, fruit, combs, ballads, cakes, fried fish, arti- 
ficial flowers, chairs, brooms, soap, candles, crockery- 
ware, iron-ware, cheese, walking-sticks, looking- 
glasses, frying-pans. Bibles, toys, fire-wood, and so 
on. Here's a woman fiercely beating down the price 
of carrots, while that newly married artisan's wife, 
who has just begun life as a housekeeper, looks on 
bew^ildered and timid. Here's a blackguard boy, with 
a painted face, tumbling head over heels in the mud 
for a halfpenny. Oh, the noise of Butchers' Row, 
"Whitechapel, especially on a Saturday night ! Yelling, 
screeching, howling, swearing, fighting, laughing. 
It's a combination of commerce, fun, frolic, cheating, 
begging, thieving, deviltry, short pipes, thick sticks, 
mouldy umbrellas, dirty faces, and ragged coats. 
Here are gin palaces in profusion. The company 
such as you see nowhere else, yet, as I said before, the 
sameness is sickening. In some of them it is hardly 
safe to venture without a policeman; very few bar- 
maids — men, strong, stout, fighting-men dispense the 
liquor. 

Let us stej) into this penny gaff or theatre. "We are 
now past Butchers' Row and out in High Street, 
Whitechapel. " Yun penny, if you please, hunless 
you takes a stall, and them's tuppence." We take a 
stall j the place is horribly dirty. A low stage at one 
end, and the body filled with the company. Oh, what 
a company ! Some light their pipes at the foot-lights 
— for two-thirds are smoking. The curtain rises, a 
man and woman sing a comic duet; they quarrel, they 



102 EATCLITEE HIGHWAY. 

fight, they make up again; but towards the close — 
ugh! it's too vile, let us come away. "We leave just 
as a young lady, in a cotton velvet spencer, short 
white calico skirt, bare arms and neck, is received 
with screams of applause. " Here's your pannyram- 
mer," says a man with a blackened face, at the door of 
a dirty den, — "honly a penny;" and we enter. We 
sit for a few minutes, but we can make neither head 
nor tail to the matter; but we are here to see the 
company, and it is the same as at the gaff. 

Cross over the street — there's another. Hear the 
doorkeeper — that little stunted, pockmarked man, 
with small keen eyes, — " 'Ere's the legitimit dramay ; 
threepence for the stalls if you please." There's a 
fellow on the stage, evidently doing a heavy business. 
Hear him rant to the awe-struck audience. 



May you blew Evin a 
Pour a clown rew-ing a 
Hon the tarator's 'ed." 



That'll do. "We come out, and before we turn down to 
Eatcliffe Highway, take another look at "Whitechapel, 
shops, gaffs, thieves, and beggars. 

Eatcliffe Highway lies contiguous to the port of 
London, and always has a strong offensive, sickening 
odor of fish fried in oil. As we pass down the 
street, you notice the shops, and the character of the 
wares : enormous boots, oil-skin caps, coats and trow- 
sers, rough woollen shirts, compasses and charts, huge 
silver watches and glaring jewelry, fried fish, second- 
hand clothes. Everything has a nautical adaptation. 
The ballad-singers deal in nautical songs. See that 
poor, half-naked man, with an old tarpaulin on his 
head. Eound him gather a crowd of men, women 



A BALLAD SESTGEE. 103 

and children. He sings with more energy than har- 
mony, and bawls more fact than poetry. Hear him. 

*' Come all good Keristians 

And give attenshin 
Unto these lines I will unfold 
With heartfelt feelinks 

To you I'll menshin. 
I'm sure that it will make 
Your werry hearts'-blood run cold. 

The good ship Mariar, she 
Sailed from the Humber 
On the twenty-fourth of October, 
Eighten hundred and forty-three. 
Her crew was seven men and a boy in number, 
Which was all swallowed up by the raging sea." 

Hartley Coleridge said " There is certainly nothing 
so lugubrious as the cracked voice of a ballad-singer 
in a dull, ill-lighted back street, on a rainy night in 
IsTovember." 

Up and down Eatcliffe Highway, the sailors of 
every country stroll. Negroes, Lascars, Britons, Ital- 
ians, Yankees, Danes, men who worship a hundred 
gods and men who worship none. IsTow let us walk 
carefully, taking no notice of any remarks as we ex- 
plore. Here is where poor Jack is " taken in and 
done for." "Whatever Jack may be at sea, on shore 
he is often the weakest and simplest of men, and 
there is but little need to cover the hook with hait to 
catch him. "When ashore, he seems to have but one 
idea, that is to spend as much money in as short a time 
as possible. A photographer in Plymouth told me 
that a shock-headed, jolly-looking, but by no means 
handsome sailor, came in one day, — " Here, ship- 
mate, I want a futtergruff, as 'andsome as hever you 



104 THE ha:ndsome " futtergruff." 

can make it." The " futtergruif " was taken. "That 
me? That's too blessed hiigly; I want it for my 
mother and sister, and I shan't send such a looking 
chap as that ere down, as me. Take another." 
Another and another was taken, but none was satis- 
factory, and by his wonderful efforts to look handsome, 
the pictures were anything but flattering. At last, 
looking at the pictures on the wall, he said, " Why 
don't you make as 'andsum one as that ere ? " point- 
ing out the most genteel among them all. " Come, 
shipmate, sell me yun of them;" and he actually 
bought and paid for one — frame and all, and went 
away happy to think he had got a " futtergruff " 
that would do him credit at home. 

Eyery few yards we come to a beer-house, or gin- 
shop, doorways temptingly open; from the upper 
rooms come the tramp of feet and the sound of the 
yiolin. Attached to many of the houses is a crew of 
infamous women to tempt Jack in to treat them. His 
drink is drugged, and against their yillany he has no 
chance. It is said that many so-called respectable 
people haye made fortunes there. Grrog and dancing 
meet us at eyery turn. "Women — wild-eyed, bois- 
terous, cheeks red with rouge, flabby with intem- 
perance, decked with ribbons of gayest hue, all coarse, 
insolent, unloyely — dancing in the beer-shop, drink- 
ing at the bar, all bent on yictimizing the poor 
sailor. 

Let us take a peep into this Music Hall. See how 
crowded it is with sailors and women seated with pots 
of porter before them; eyery tar, and some of the 
women, with pipes, listening to songs, and witnessing 
performances of a yery questionable moral character, 
and not yery artistic. Some of these places of amuse- 



thieves' lodgings. 105 

ment are of too low a character to be described, yet 
licensed by Act of Parliament. By-and-by the grog 
will do its work. Then unruly tongues are loosed; 
there are quarrels and blows ; heads broken ; cries of 
" police ! " victims for the hospital, station-house, or 
lunatic asylum; and perhaps some poor wretch, mad- 
dened by drink and shame, plunges into the muddy 
waters of the nearest neighboring dock, seeking 
vainly the oblivion never found in the dancing, drink- 
ing-houses of Ratcliffe Highway. 

I made some explorations among the beggars and 
thieves of London; sometimes with police officers, at 
other times with city missionaries in the thieves' dis- 
trict. You get more information in company with a 
missionary than with a policeman ; for while the latter 
knows almost every thief in the city, the thief knows 
every policeman, whether in uniform or not, and they 
are generally reticent while in their presence. 

Come with me, and I will show you where the 
lowest class live; come down this narrow street, as 
we advance, picking our way through kennels, stum- 
bling over heaps of rubbish and oyster-shells. All 
the repulsive and hideous features of the place are 
disclosed before us. Every human being seems bru- 
talized and degraded. We go down this dark and 
noisome alley; as the detective lifts the latch of the 
door, we enter a sort of kitchen, — this is a thieves' 
ken or lodging-house. On one side there is a long 
table, at which sit a number of men of sinister aspect. 
The principal light is afforded by a candle stuck 
against the wall. In one corner, with his head resting 
on a heap of coals, lies a boy as black as a chimney- 
sweeper, — that is the waiter. '' Here's some com- 
pany come to see you, lads! Here you, stand up 



106 , pickpockets' teicks. 

and take off your cap." You see the thief cowers 
before the representative of law, lawless as he is. 
Let the officer simply say, " My lad, I want you," he 
would probably turn to the others and say, " Good- 
by, coves," and march off without another word. As 
we turn to leave them, we see by the expression of 
their faces that we are not wanted. 

They have but very little mercy on their victims. 

I was told that a countryman was leaning on the 
parapet of one of the bridges in London, when he 
was accosted by a thief. 

" Nice river." 

"Ees, Pse been looking at it awhile; wot lots of 
ships ! " 

" Lord love ye, them ain't ships, they are boats ; vos 
you never in London before? " 

" N^o, I never was." 

" You'll have to look out sharp." 

"Why, what for?" 

"For the thieves; the pickpockets will get all your 
money." 

"No, they won't. I aren't afeard of a pick- 
pocket." 

" Perhaps you ain't got no money." 

" Oh, ees I have. I got a sovereign." 

" Yere do you keep it? " 

" Ah, that's telling." 

" Oh, I know; you keep it in yer handkerchief back 
of yer neck." 

"No, I don't." 

" Then you keeps it in yer stocking." 

"No, I don't. I don't mind telling where I do 
keep it; ha! ha! I've got it in my mouth, right agin 





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A^ INNOCENT COUNTRYMAN. 109 

mj cheek, away back; and no thief will get that, I 
know." 

" You're a deep one, you are. Good day." 

In a short time, a boy runs up against the country- 
man, and drops a handful of coppers, with one or two 
pieces of silver, — " Oh, dear! oh, dear! my money," — 
and commences to pick it up, assisted by the country- 
man and others, who gather as a crowd will gather at 
a moment's notice in London. Still, when all the 
pieces had been returned to the boy, he cried, " Oh, 
my money ! my money ! " Some one said, " Have you 
not got your money? " "Oh, no; I 'ad a sovereign! 
I 'ad a sovereign ! " 

Up steps the thief, who had come, mingling with 
the crowd. "You've lost a sovereign, 'ave ye?" 

"Yes, sir. Oil, dear! oh, dear!" 

" Yy, I see that chap there," pointing to the coun- 
tryman, "pick up something, and put it in his 
mouth." 

At this the countryman stands bewildered, till some 
one cries out, " Find out whether he's got it; " another 
catches him by the throat, and squeezing him till 
nearly choking, to save himself from strangulation he 
ejects the sovereign, which is given to the boy, with a 
great deal of sympathy. The poor countryman is 
hustled by the crowd, and may consider himself lucky 
if he escapes a ducking in the river. 



CHAPTBE VII. 



HAUNTS OF CRIME. — THE CITY MISSION^AEIES OF 
LONDON AND THEIR WORK. 



London essentially cosmopolitan — Byron's " Superb Menagerie " — 
Thackeray's "Vanity Fair" — Solitude in the Crowd — Munificent 
Charities — Cures for every 111 — The Aristocracy — Extremes of 
Character — The Middle Class — Homes of Virtue — "The Bray of 
Exeter Hall" — City Missionaries — Heroism in "Little Hell" — 
"Never rob a Parson" — Training-Schools for Thieves — Practising 
at picking Pockets" — Perverse Judgments of Perverse Natures — 
At Enmity with the World — "The Gospel-Grinder" — Philosophy 
of a Boy-Thief — Selling "Hinguns" — A Rough-and-Ready Mis- 
sionary — " No Genus in picking a Pocket " — " Fear makes Cow- 
ards of us " — Religion hurts the Business — A Publican spoiled — 
Real Courage — The Sermon of the Converted Swee^D — Parable 
of the Ignorant Cabman — Rough Welcome to the Preacher. 

O^NDOi^ and its people are an inex- 
haustible theme. The different opin- 
ions of different people about London 
would fill volumes. Dr. Johnson says: 
''1 have often amused myself with 
thinking how different a place London 
is to different people. A politician 
^§^ thinks of it merely as the seat of gov- 
ernment; a grazier, as a great mart for cat- 
tle; a man of pleasure, as an assemblage of taverns 
and theatres; a mercantile man, as a place where a 
prodigious amount of business is done upon 'Change; 
but the intellectual man is struck with it as compre- 

110 




INEXHAUSTIBLE LONDOIJ^". Ill 

bending the Avhole of human life in all its variety, the 
contemplation of which is inexhaustible." The same 
great authority declared that Fleet Street contained 
" the most sublime and picturesque combinations of 
objects within the periphery of our terraqueous ball." 
On another occasion the sage exclaims : " Sir, no man 
that is at all intellectual will leave London. No, sir. 
When he has exhausted London, he has exhausted 
life ; for there is in London all that life can afford." 
" The literature of England, of Europe, of the world, 
at any place or any time," wrote the author of " Mod- 
ern Babylon," " contains not a page, a volume, or a 
book so mighty in import, so magnificent in explana- 
tion, as the single word London." Byron called 
London " one superb menagerie ; " Cobbett called it 
" a great wen;" Thackeray called it " Vanity Fair." 
Charles Lamb, Horace Smith, and other wits, could 
live nowhere but in London. As these men loved 
London for its society, so other men love it for its 
quiet. "A man of letters," writes the elder DTsraeli, 
" more intent on the acquisitions of literature than on 
the mtrigues of politicians or the speculations of com- 
merce, may find a deeper solitude in the populous 
metropolis than in the seclusion of the country." 
Gibbon in the same spirit tells us : " While coaches 
were rattling through Bond Street, I have passed 
many a solitary evening in my lodgings with my 
books. I withdrew without reluctance from the noisy 
and extensive scene of crowds without company and 
dissipation without pleasure." 

The philanthropist may contemplate with delightful 
astonishment the amazing charities of London. All 
thoughtful foreign visitors are struck with the mu- 
nificence and charities of London. What a noble 



112 EXTEEMES OF SOCIETY. 

array of charities for the sick body, the suddenly dis- 
abled by accident, the means of cure for blinded 
eyes, for deafened ears, for the cough of the con- 
sumptive, and the tearing fingers of cancer! In 
short, there is a refuge in London for almost every 
bodily ill, where all that science, skill, and experience 
can do is freely given to the poorest. How these 
streams are kept in a perennial flow you see by the 
words carved high on all these noble institutions: 
" Supported by vohmtary contribution." 

I have dwelt long on the darker shades of London 
life, on some saddening parts of it. I have given you 
my experiences, the results of observation and inves- 
tigation; described to you scenes I have looked on, 
and shown you pictures of a certain phase of life in 
the great metropolis ; I have brought before you what 
are termed the "lower classes," between whom and 
the higher classes, the aristocracy and nobility, there 
is a " great gulf fixed," across which I have never 
attempted to pass, and should probably have been 
foiled if I had. I can tell you nothing of the habits, 
manners, or customs of that class, and will only say 
that among them there are some of the noblest and 
some of the meanest of mankind, the most liberal and 
the most conservative, the most sympathetic and the 
most heartless. We know this from their work, not 
by contact with them, except on occasions when their 
benevolence and desire to advance the interests of 
the people have brought us together for a brief space. 

But between the two extremes of society we find 
most of the active benevolence, the saving influences; 
and it is delightful to know that in London, with all 
its crime and poverty and degradation, there are so 
many thousand rills of loving and holy effort to heal 



EOMANCE OF THE STREETS. 113 

the moral sicknesses. We can only faintly picture the 
household fires gleaming warm and bright on groups 
where cultivated parents so train and guard the chil- 
dren as to see them walk the path of life with un- 
spotted garments. Space would fail to record the 
pure pleasures, the lovely social gatherings ; the quiet 
plans of employers to make those who serve them 
wise concerning the good, and simple concerning the 
evil; the scores of meetings every night pulsating 
with hearty effort to dry up the fountain of sin and 
suffering, and to get help from above in a work that, 
in the aggregate, is enough to appall the most cour- 
ageous benevolence. I could tell you of Exeter Hall, 
now purchased by the Young Men's Christian Asso- 
ciation, the name having been for years the synonyme 
for benevolent and reformatory effort. This Exeter 
Hall influence on religion and reformatory progress 
was unwillingly avowed when, in a moment of vexa- 
tion at its blocking his path in some degree, a great 
man called it, in his place before the people, " the 
bray of Exeter Hall." We will show you some of 
the modes of operation outside the direct teaching 
and influence of the churches. 

The City Missionaries are indeed a self-denying 
class of men, living on a bare pittance, and often 
sharing their poor crust with the destitute. They 
are not '^ Stigginses," nor " Chadbands," nor " red- 
nosed shepherds." From my heart I pity those who 
can find no better representatives of these Christian 
workers. Read the following, from the "Eomance 
of the Streets," relating to a missionary : " During 
fifteen years he worked in one of the worst districts 
of the metropolis, in the rear of Lisson Grove. In 
one street, known by the name of ' Little Hell,' he 



114 CITY missio:n'Aiiies. 

attended eighty-five cases of typhus fever. As a 
common visitor among divers diseases, he has never 
personally sufiered, but his children have more than 
once been prostrated by infection carried home. In 
this infamous rookery he walked safely at all hours 
among the haunts of the most vicious of our race, so 
completely were the respect and confidence of the 
inhabitants gained. There was not a ruffian in the 
entire length of the street who would not have de- 
fended the ' parson ' by word and hand, had occasion 
arisen." 

One may ask what possible good can a religious 
teacher do among this class. Frequently one of these 
missionaries seems to be qualified in a remarkable de- 
gree for this work. It is not by his soft speech nor 
his polished eloquence, but often in a blunt, rough- 
and-ready way; he will lose no chance of warning 
the younger ones of the evil of their ways. All these 
are wonderful men, going about their business in a 
cheerful, hopeful way, humming snatches of hymns. 
Sometimes the missionary will rescue a wife out of 
the cruel hands of her brutal husband, when police- 
men are loath to interfere. One of them told me that 
he had never lost anything but once, though he had 
worked amongst them sixteen years, and then a boy 
brought his handkerchief back to him the next day, 
apologizing that it was a new boy that took it, " vot 
didn't know the missionary." 

Rev. Charles Stovel said, in a speech at Exeter 
Hall: "Passing down Rosemary Lane, one night, a 
handkerchief was extracted from my pocket by a lad, 
who ran away with it. Soon afterwards, however, he 
returned and said, 'Please, sir, is this yours?' 'Yes, 
it is,' I replied. ' Take it,' said he, and then added, 



NEVER ROB A PARSOIIir. 115 

^ Please, sir, give me something for bringing it back.' 
'1*^0, my boy/ I said, 'I must not do that; but I will 
leave a little book for you with my friend here.' The 
boy came the next day to the house of my friend, and 
said, 'Please, sir, was not that a minister?' 'Yes,' 
was the answer. 'Ah, well,' said the boy, 'I will 
never rob a parson, for God's sake.'" 

It is pitiful to know that so many are trained as 
thieves. A city missionary has described how they 
are schooled. He says : " I found a room in my dis- 
trict in which children of both sexes were instructed 
on the doll. The image of a lady or a gentleman was 
dressed and suspended from the ceiling. A purse 
containing sixpence was placed in the pockets ; a bell 
was hung on a spring in the inside of the figure; the 
youth who could extract the purse without ringing 
the bell, got the sixpence." 

One man who pursued his mission among them 
said, that what renders their case almost hopeless is 
the fact that they have no faith in the sincerity, hon- 
esty, or goodness of human nature; they believe 
other people are no better than themselves, and will 
do a wrong thing when it suits their purpose as 
readily as they will. Only those who have tried the 
experiment can tell how difficult it is to make a thief 
believe you are disinterested, and mean him well. 
They have an ingrained conviction that you are 
wrong — not they. You are wrong in appropriating 
the good things, leaving none for them, but such as 
they can steal. They are taught that the clergy are 
hypocrites, the magistrates tyrants, the policeman 
their natural foe, and all honest people their bitter 
enemies. 

With the city missionary, you may obtain information 
8 



116 "VALLOPIN^G 'lIRTS." 

from them. For although they call him the " Gospel 
grinder/' they are often quite free in their communi- 
cations to him and before him. Once, exploring with 
a gentleman who had been very successful, he said, 
" These boys you see pitching pennies are thieves. 
I will call one of them, and ask him some questions. 
^Jem!' ^Vell?' 'Come here.' 'AH right.' 'I 
want you to give this gentleman some information.' 
' All right ye are again, sir.' ' What makes boys 
thieves? ' ' Veil, sir, because they von't let a boy get 
an 'onest living.' ' How's that? ' ' Veil, I'll tell yer. 
Suppose my father, he says, " Jem, you go out and 
'oiler them inguns; you bring me back so much 
money or enough inguns to make your accounts 
square, or I'll vallop ye ; " and boys don't like val- 
lopingj it 'urts. So I goes hout and 'oilers the inguns. 
I gets tired. I've been at it all day, and don't sell 
none. I sees a voman a- standing at her gate. I 
think she's fly, so I says, " Please, ma'am, do you vant 
to buy any inguns of a poor boy? " " How d'ye sell 
'em?" she says. "Threepence ha'penny a bunch, 
ma'am." ''I'll give ye threepence." "Couldn't let 
ye 'ave 'em for threepence." "Then I don't vont 
'em." 'Now, vot vould a ha'penny be to her? ISToth- 
ing; but it's a good deal to me; so I goes on a- 
'ollering. Another voman, she says, " 'Ow do ye sell 
hinguns?" "Threepence ha'penny a bunch, ma'am." 
"I'll give ye threepence ha'penny, if you throw a 
couple of inguns in." Veil, I 'aven't sold any. I'm 
tired, and I thinks perhaps I'll make it up off some- 
body else; so I lets 'er 'ave 'em, and I'm ha'penny 
short; and so it goes on; everybody thinking I'm 
making a fortin selling inguns, and everybody beat- 
ing on yer down. So I goes home short, and my 



GENTUS AND CHEEK. 117 

father yallops me, and sends me to bed without 
nothing to eat, and ve precious soon finds out it's 
easier to prig than it is to get an 'onest living, ven 
everybody 's beating on yer down.' " 

One boy not twenty said to* me, "There ain't no 
genius in picking a pocket; that's only sleight of 'and, 
anybody could do that. I'll tell ye vere the genius 
is. Ven you've got a gent's vipe out of his pocket, 
and he turns round and says, ^ Somebody's picked my 
pocket,' and you look 'im right in the face and says, 
' 'As there, sir? that werry 'ard on you, sir.' That's 
cheek; that's genius." Another said, "The best lay 
we 'as is where they stick up, ' Beware of pickpock- 
ets ! ' Venever you see that advertisement, there 
you'll find the pickpockets ; — in the post-ofiice, round 
the bank, or the railway station. You see, sir, some 
cove 'as been to draw 'is dividends, or get money in 
the Corn Exchange. Arter he gets 'is money, he 
goes into the post-office or railway station, and ven 
he sees that 'ere advertisement, he says to hisself, 
'Beware of pickpockets, so I must;' and then he 
puts 'is 'and vere 'is money is, and ve sees 'im, and 
finds out that he's got something, and vere he keeps 
it; and them 'ere two pints gained, the result is werry 
hobvious." 

To return from the digression. "We ask what good 
can be accomplished by Christian workers? One 
point to gain is to make them dissatisfied vdth pres- 
ent circumstances. Then you create a desire for 
something better. A youthful thief said of the mis- 
sion work : " This 'ere has done me a deal of harm. 
I'll tell you why. Me and some of my pals here get 
our living how we can; cause why? we've got no 
characters, and nobody won't employ us. Ve can't 



118 GOD SEES YOU. 

starve, don't you know, and vot's a cove to do? 
Well, they're always preaching about God seeing 
you, and the like of that. It makes a cove afeard, — 
it takes all the pluck out of me, I know. I never 
thieve now, unless I'm forced to do it from hunger. 
If I go arter a handkerchief, when the pinch comes, 
I begin to think about God Almighty; for as they 
say, you know, fear makes cowards of us." 

There are missionaries who visit the public houses : 
read a description of one. A writer says : " Instead 
of a shabby-genteel, white-neckerchiefed creature of 
the preacher type, as I expected to find, he was a 
thick-set, determined-looking being, who, with the 
Bible in one pocket and a bundle of tracts in the 
other, went forth to work among the dens in a very 
matter-of-fact fashion." He is prepared for opposi- 
tion, and argument or objection; but he is impertur- 
bably good-tempered, and possesses an amazing 
amount of courage and tact, often receiving a rebuff, 
and then again a word in reply revealing a degree of 
interest, and some conscience. A poor drunkard, a 
young man, haggard, squalid, and ragged, received a 
tract, when the missionary laid his hand on his shoul- 
der, and said in a whisper, " We must all give an ac- 
count of ourselves to God." " A pretty account mine 
will be," was the answer, and so the way was open 
for a talk. A missionary offered a tract to a young 
medical student, as he was chatting with some of his 
friends. He took it, and when he discovered what it 
was, he said, " Please take it back; I have just passed 
my examination, and I am out for a spree. I am not 
in a fit state to have it; I am afraid I shall turn it into 
ridicule." 

Sometimes the good influence extends to the land- 



PUBLIC-HOUSE MISSIONABIES. 119 

lords. Some roughs were evidently in a bad humor; 
something had ruffled them. " He won't serve you 
now, if you're only a bit tight; and if you let slip a 
word, he says, 'Now, then, that won't do in this 
house.'" "Well, he wasn't always so," said another; 
" he used to be as good a chap as any, and could 
swear a bit. I've heard him." " Ah," said a third, 
" he's not fit to be a publican now. "What made him 
do so, do you know? " " Know! yes, to be sure I do. 
"Why, them missionary fellows walk bang into the 
beer-shops now; and one's been in there, taking his 
religion and his tracts with him, and he's so worked 
on the landlord's mind that he's quite turned it, and 
now he treats his customers in this way." 

Sometimes the surprise of on-lookers at these 
operations is singularly expressed. One said, "My 
stars ! a public-house is a rum crib for spouting in. 
Forty years I have been in and out of these cribs, 
and never heard a spouter before. What next, I 
wonder, after this? " One of the London newspapers 
remarks : " When we first heard of missionaries visit- 
ing public-houses, it struck us forcibly as casting 
pearls before swine, and exposing men to unnecessary 
insult and certain failure, but we were soon convinced 
to the contrary. In these dens of iniquity the agents 
seek out the very refuse, — the dregs of humanity, — 
and with the good old Book in hand, carry to them 
the news of a divine hope, even for the vilest of man- 
kind. It may seem almost beyond belief, but such is 
the tact, the courage, and efSciency of the agents em- 
ployed in this particular work, that when they become 
known to the habitual frequenters of any house, insult 
or attempted injury would be instantly hooted down 
by the company; and, more strange still, the publicans 



120 "tha^^tkeul foe that." 

themselves often welcome the Society's agents to their 
doors, and do all that lies in their power to obtain a 
quiet hearing for them. He is a bold, good man, who 
in the excitement of battle, with the eyes of the world 
upon him, and with the hope of the Victoria Cross 
before him, rushes into the ranks of the enemy to 
rescue a comrade from death; but he is a bolder and 
nobler man who, without excitement, and with no 
human rewards provided for him, can appear amid the 
reeking orgies of a low London tap-room, and speak, 
not only of wasted health, scattered wages, and de- 
serted homes, but of souls lost, and to be redeemed 
by the most costly offering that Bounty could bestow 
for their salvation." 

In some of the localities inhabited by costermongers 
and the very poor, the missionaries' work has been 
productive of great good. It is really delightful to 
visit the renovated homes of some of these people. 
Here in a poor apartment, with but very little com- 
fort, we find a man unable to earn a living, sorely 
afflicted and a cripple, with his Bible, and cheerful in 
the prospect of a better inheritance. A woman who, 
after paying her rent, has two shillings left for the 
week, and a little bread and tea twice a day being her 
customary fare, says she is " thankful for that." From 
the often despised city missionary she has received 
something better than earth's riches or prosperity. 
Here in another room we find a costermonger and his 
family, practising cleanliness and sobriety; and he is 
only a type of many others brought under the influ- 
ence of the Gospel by the missionary, which has pro- 
duced in him self-respect, so that he is striving after 
an honest independence, and often under difficulties. 
One of the costers said, "Can't be religious nohow; 



"here's the parson." 121 

can't let the barrer be lazy on Sundays." But when 
they accept the Gospel, you hear them exclaim, 
" Don't work on Sundays now, sh\ A good day for 
trade I know, sir; but I likes to trade with heaven on 
Sundays, and learn a little about my soul there." One 
will say, "I ain't a eddicated person, but I knows 
wot's wot, and I know God never meant the likes of 
us to be religious. Yy, don't yer see it couldn't be 
done ! " Yet when such are reclaimed, their Christian 
profession becomes very sincere, and their life a 
zealous service. "I alius felt ashamed of myself," 
confessed a converted sweep, " when I seed the people 
comin' out of church, and I'd been a cussin' and 
swearin'. ISTow, mates, you want to get to Heaven. 
I'll tell you how to get there. Trust in Jesus Christ; 
He'll never forsake yer. I, a poor sweep, am glad to 
wash my face when my day's work is done; but how 
much better to have Christ to wash your black soul ! " 
^' How do yer know you're going to Heaven? " asked 
one of his old mates. " Well," said he, " how do you 
know whether you've got sugar in your tea? " 

The missionary must understand the method of ap- 
proaching those he would help, and adapt his discourse 
to the condition of his hearers. A]3proaching a com- 
pany of cabmen who were gathered round a public- 
house, one of them said, " Here's the parson, men, 
vot goes round to make people religious." The mis- 
sionary said, " I want to tell you rather a queer tale 
about a young chap that thought he could be a cab- 
man before he knew about the city," and then he quite 
humorously described the poor fellow's perplexity 
when he tried to find the Great Western Eailway, and 
hunted for it down Shoreditch, and then at the Bank, 
and then at Whitechapel Church, and so on. 



122 "buster, my HmrANT." 

The men were very mucli delighted with the graphic 
description of the young man's blunders, and unani- 
mously voted him a fool for driving round, when he 
only had to ask, and almost anybody would have set 
him right. When he had got them to this point, he 
cried out, " l^ow you're all driving wrong, and you 
should be civil to any one who knows the road, and 
would set you right. Here is God's road-book," 
opening the Bible. "Let me tell you how sinners 
may drive straight to Heaven." This was within the 
compass of their intellect, and they thanked him, and 
voted him to be a good sort of a fellow. One of 
these self-denying and useful men relates that on one 
occasion, when he called at a house where a large 
number of rough men were gathered, one cried out, 
" I say, mates, here's the gemman vot talks to poor 
people about summut better ; " then to one who was 
six feet tall, he said, " Now, Buster, my hinfant, I 
vants you to 'ear the old buffer, 'cos you knows a 
thing or two, it's regular stunning, and vot's more, it's 
sometimes cutting." " Come, mister, give these 'ere 
gents a stave; let's 'ear summut about that young 
rascal vot bolted away from his poor old father; that 
is a regular good thing, that is. Buster, my hinfant, 
come hand over the cushion; and mister, you don't 
object to our taking a smoke; " and the missionary 
read the Parable of the Prodigal Son, with comments ; 
and after half an hour he asked if they were tired, 
and all cried out, " Go on! go on! " 



CHAPTEE YIII. 



WAR WITH VICE. — TEMPER AN^CE WORK AMONG THE 
DESTITUTE AND DEPRAVED. 



Street - Preachers — Fitness for their Work — A Striking Scene — 
" Music with no Melody, Laughter with no Mirth " — " Murder, Mur- 
der, Police!" — The Street - Preacher and his Audience — Plain 
Preaching and its Power — "Reformatory and Refuge Union" — 
Thirty-four Benevolent Institutions under One Control — Good Work 
of a Brewer's Son — Lambeth Baths — Hoxton Hall — A Converted 
Building — William Noble's Mission — The Blue - Ribbon Army — 
An Audience of Reformed Men — "London Times" on Gough in 
Hoxton Hall — Report of the "Record" on the same Meeting — 
Four Great Branches of the Temperance Work — -United Kingdom 
Alliance — Temperance in Politics — "> Medical Temperance So- 
ciety " — " London Temperance Hospital " — Eight Thousand Patients 
in Six Years — Medicine without Alcohol — Results. 



HILE the missionaries' work is 
exceedingly interesting and fasci- 
nating, I pass on to speak of the 
street preachers, for the missionary 
proper does not preach so much as 
visit and make personal appeals. 
C, The street preacher may not be 
suited to a fastidious audience. He 
may understand no rules of rhetoric, 
but he talks from his experience, and uses language 
easily comprehended by the audiences that Hsten to 
him. 

A discourse should always be adapted to the char- 
acter of the hearers, and no one can listen to one 

123 




124 STAND STILL AKD LISTE:Nr. 

of these street preachers, at the " Seven Dials," or 
"Golden Lane/' or "Ratcliffe Highway," and note 
the earnest attention of the ragged audience, with- 
out feeling that the speaker understands his audience, 
and that they understand him. "What if they do 
mispronounce their words? What if they do drop 
their " h's " when they are needed, and take them up 
when not wanted? "What if they do sometimes con- 
struct a sentence contrary to the rules of syntax? 
Their influence is none the less powerful on those 
who listen to them. I think I never saw a more 
striking effect produced on an audience than I wit- 
nessed once in the streets. I stood with a detective 
and two gentlemen at the junction of three streets, 
listening to the din and confusion of that very bad 
neighborhood. The detective had said, " ]^ow, gentle- 
men, you stand here by me : do not answer any question 
that may he put to you, nor make any reply to any 
remark, but stand by me. Take care of your valua- 
bles, and listen." The raw night breeze brought to 
our ears the wailing cry of neglected children, the 
hoarse voice of blasphemy and cursing, the shuffling 
of feet, music with no melody, laughter with no 
mirth; when suddenly we heard a cry of "murder, 
murder, police ! " and a half naked woman dashed 
past us, her hair dishevelled, her face streaming with 
blood. " Stand still," said the detective, " this is an 
occurrence of every half hour. It is a fearful place 
this. I have brought missionaries from Africa here, 
and they tell me there is no heathenism in Africa 
equal to this in Christian London." 

Soon we heard a clear, distinct voice, all out of 
place in the din, and the detective said, " Follow me, 
and I will show you something worth looking at." 



GLAD TrDINGS. 125 

We went down the dim street, and soon came np to a 
group, evidently composed of some of the worst class 
of thieves and beggars, surrounding a plain-looking 
man in a fustian jacket, who stood with his back 
against a lamp-post; at his feet sat seven bleared, 
bloated, gin-soaked women on the curbstone. "While 
we stood there he preached. Holding a pocket Tes- 
tament in his hand, he said, " I've come down here to 
bring yer good news. It may seem strange that I 
should come to a place like this 'ere, to tell you good 
news, but the book what I hold in my hand says it's 
glad tidings of great joy: which is to all people, and 
that means us." 

Then he went on to tell of one that was " King in 
Heaven, who had all that heart could wish; the very 
angels bowed down afore Him, and covered their 
faces when they spoke to Him: and He looked down 
on this 'ere world, and He heard the people a-crying, 
and He seen 'em suffering, and He came down to help 
'em; but they wouldn't have nothing to do with Him. 
They slapped Him in the face, they spit on Him, and 
then hung Him up between two thieves." Then he 
said, "Why, my friends. He might have sent for 
twelve regiments of His Father's soldiers, and swept 
His enemies off the face of the earth, but He didn't. 
Oh no. He suffered for just such poor creatures as 
you and me. aSTow I want to tell ye more about Him. 
He never turned His back on a beggar; nobody ever 
came to Him, that He told 'em to go aAvay. There 
ain't a thief that He wouldn't welcome, if he'd coom 
to Him. There ain't one of these poor women with 
her face blackened by the last night's fight, but His 
heart is full of sympathy for just such as she is. 
Why, my friends, they brought a woman to him, what 



126 SAVED, AND SAVINa OTHEES. 



had been doing wrong, and they were going to stone 
her to death according to their law. "What did He 
say to her? Why, He didn't say nothing till every- 
body was 4gone, 'cos He didn't want to shame the poor 
creature. And when they was all gone. He spoke to 
her just as He would to His own mother; 'Woman, 
Where's them what's accusing of yer?' And she 
said, ' There ain't none.' And He said, ' ]N"o more 
don't I, my poor child. You go away, and don't do so 
any more.' That's what He said to her." One 
woman lifted up her hands, and said, " Oh, my God! " 
another swayed herself to and fro; another covered 
her face with her apron; one man dashed his haijd 
across his eyes — it was too much for him. That was 
a sermon, powerful in its application to the class who 
heard it. Many of these street preachers are mechan- 
ics and working-men, who have been saved them- 
selves, and now, in the true spirit of the Gospel, are 
striving to save others. 

Space will not permit me to enumerate all the be- 
nevolent institutions that are relieving so much dis- 
tress. I give you some statistics of one association, 
published some time since. This is the " Reformatory 
and Refuge Union." There were thirty-four institu- 
tions connected with and controlled by it, such as 
refuges for destitute boys and girls, for criminals, for 
the neglected, for the homeless, for vagrants, for 
young girls exposed to temptation and out of employ- 
ment, for children of vicious or criminal parents, for 
deserted children, for poor servants out of employ- 
ment, for destitute working-men, for those discharged 
from hospitals, for crippled and destitute girls, for 
women discharged from prison, for degraded outcast 
boys, for orphan street-boys, &c., &c. Then there 



CHARRINGTON" — LING — MURPHY. 129 

are "Dr. Barnardo's East-End Juvenile Mission," 
" Home for Boys " at Stepney, and the " Girls' Home " at 
Hford. The " Midnight Meeting Movement," " Friend- 
less and Fallen Eefuge," the " Boys' Home," Dept- 
ford, "Poor Cabman's Society," "Dock-Laborers' 
Mission," "Destitute Children's Dinners," "London 
Medical Mission," " Cow Cross Mission," " Sick Chil- 
dren's Dinners," "Sermon Lane Free Breakfasts," 
" "Woman's Mission to Women," &c. In short, the 
benevolent and Christian enterprises are amazing in 
their extent. 

Then there is Charrington's Mission. Mr. Char- 
rington was the son of a brewer, and gave up a for- 
tune for conscience' sake, and now supports a nightly 
meeting, and is doing a great work. Then the Cen- 
tral Hall meetings every evening, to provide for the 
people rational amusement and instruction without 
the appendage of drink, under the direction of Mr. 
Ling. Then the meetings at the " Edinburgh Castle," 
once a very immoral music-hall, now, under the super- 
intendence of Dr. Barnardo, a place for Christian in- 
struction. Then the Lambeth Baths, where the Rev. 
G. Murphy has the charge, and provides two thou- 
sand people, principally of the working classes, valu- 
able instruction, both secular and religious, every 
evening from November till May, (the rent of the 
Baths paid by Samuel Morley, Esq.) Then there are 
scores of Temperance and other meetings constantly 
held in various parts of London, all of which it is 
impossible to describe, but intensely interesting to 
visit. 

I must not pass over Hoxton Hall. On March 29, 
1878, Hoxton Music Hall — which had been a nui- 
sance to the neighborhood, and the ruin of many 



130 BLUE KIBBOI^ ARMY. 

people, old and young, of both sexes — having become 
a music-hall of the lowest type, and lost its license 
through the abominations practised there, was hired 
by Mr. Wilham Noble and a committee for three 
months, as an experiment. The object was to convert 
a place famous for its vileness into a place for instruc- 
tions in righteousness, by holding continuous gospel 
temperance meetings. The plan was so eminently 
successful that it was deemed advisable to take the 
hall for a further period of twelve months. 

At the expiration of that time those engaged in the 
good work must either purchase the hall or give up 
possession, when a friend who had taken great inter- 
est in the work came forward, and by his generosity 
the freehold was purchased and vested in five trustees, 
thus giving a permanent centre to the good work so 
successfully inaugurated. The hall is now being im- 
proved and repaired, soon to be opened and devoted 
to the same great purpose. Under the auspices of 
the " Blue Kibbon Army," (the name given to the 
temperance society grown out of the work,) there 
have been held 1,335 meetings, with an aggregate 
attendance of 813,830 persons. This is an entirely 
unsectarian movement, and has been the means of 
rescuing thousands from the grasp of the destroyer, 
Strong Drink, and many who were apparently lost 
have been by the influence of these gospel temper- 
ance efforts brought to the saving knowledge of the 
truth. 

I visited Hoxton Hall several times. Perhaps I 
can give a better idea of the work, if I venture to 
insert the following notice of my last visit there, from 
the "London Times" of October 6, 1879: 



HOXTOiiT MUSIC HALL. 131 

"On Saturday Mr. Gough, the temperance lecturer, addressed an 
audience at the Hoxton Temperance Music Hall, Hoxton Street, com- 
posed mainly of ' reformed men and women.' The hall was thronged 
an hour before the time announced for the lecture. The audience was 
composed, with very few exceptions, of working-men and women, and 
when the Rev. J. Johnstone, in the prayer prefacing the address, begged 
for the Divine guidance of those who had fled from the temptations of 
drink, a fervid ' Amen ' was murmured from many lips. Sacred songs, 
under the leadership of Mr. William Noble, the honorary director of 
the gospel temperance movement, were sung very heartily by the 
people, and Mr. Noble then asked all those who had signed the pledge in 
that hall to stand up. Nearly the whole of the audience rose, and he 
proceeded to say that among those were many reformed drunkards, as 
well as reformed men and women who had been moderate drinkers. 
He asked them to repeat their vow, and they, upstanding, solemnly said, 
' I promise, by God's helj), to abstain from all intoxicating liquors, and 
to discountenance their use in others. The Lord help me to keep this 
vow for Christ's sake. Amen.' Mr. Noble went on to say that Mr. 
Gough had given upwards of thirty addresses to the working classes of 
London without fee or reward, and in these the Hoxton peo^Dle had 
largely shared. 

" Mr. Gough had told the committee of the Blue Ribbon Army, that 
if they cared to take a large hall and make a charge for admission, his 
addi-ess should be in aid of the fund to carry on that mission, and if they 
had done so there would have been ten thousand people to hear him ; but 
the committee had decided to have a meeting whereat the people who had 
been benefited by Mr. Gough's labors could assemble to bid him farewell. 
Mr. James Rae, late of the Royal Artillery, Mr. Morgan, and Mr. Robert 
Rae, the secretary of the National Temperance League, then spoke, and 
acknowledged the services of Mr. Gough to the Temperance cause. 

" On behalf of the mission, Mr. John Smith, a French-polisher, pre- 
sented Mr. Gough with an album containing portraits of those who had 
firmly enlisted themselves in the Blue Ribbon Army. When Mr. Gough 
stood forward to receive the gift, a poor woman pressed to the front and 
presented Mrs. Gough with a bouquet of autumnal flowers. Mr. Gough, 
who was received with repeated cheers, said he was unequal to the task 
of making a speech that night, for he was quite exhausted. Touching, 
however, upon the fact of finding devoted gentlemen acting as door- 
keepers to that hall, he said he would rather be in that position himself 
than have all the profits of the largest Burton ale brewery for fifty years. 
He would rather have the lowest menial position in a work like that of 
the Blue Ribbon Army, than hold the highest position in a work coupled 
with any action which would do harm to a single soul. He proceeded to 
address his audience upon the pledge which they had repeated, and after 
remarking that it was thirty-seven years since he had signed a similar 
pledge, he added that though he could not excuse drunkenness, yet it 



132 WILLIAM noble's WOEK. 

must be allowed that the circumstances under which drunkards were 
made were different. The appetite for drink, once obtained, never 
wholty forsook men. It would come to them with maddening force, and 
they must pray, not to be kept from drunkenness, but from the appetite 
for drink. Mr. Gough resumed his seat amid loud cheers ; and Mr. T. H. 
Ellis detailed the steps which were being taken to enlarge the hall, to 
carry on the mission week-days and Sundays." 

I give a short extract from the " Eecord " relating 
to the same meeting: 

*♦ We may state incidentally that the hall has now been opened for 
more than five hundred and eighty consecutive nights. The freehold of 
the building has been purchased, and shortly the place will undergo 
repairs, which are estimated to cost £1,000, of which money, the Hon. 
Sec. stated, the friends now stand in need. Indeed, Hoxton Hall fell 
into the hands of its present occupiers in a very dilapidated condition, 
and with the odor of its former habitues strong about it. It was once a 
so-called place of entertainment. Some years ago we remember to have 
seen in a newspaper an account of how it was opened as a 'family 
theatre,' and then it was stated that the proprietors intended to conduct 
it in a manner that should secure the support of the well-to-do working 
classes. Whether this intention was honestly adhered to or not we are 
unable to say; but when we next heard of the 'Hoxton Theatre of 
Varieties ' it was as a music-hall of the lowest character. However, in 
spite of the drink, in spite of the gewgaw of the stage, and the obscenity 
of the * comic ' songs, and the profits which this combination is usually 
thought to bring, the place fell into difiiculties, and in a happy moment 
it was secured for the gospel temperance work which Mr. Noble has 
since carried on. 

" It was to this place that Mr. Gough repaired on Saturday night, and 
was received with a heartiness which showed that his intense sympatliy 
with the struggling classes is not misplaced and is not unappi-eciated. 
Some of the proceedings were a little singular. For example, we do not 
remember ever to have heard a lady open a meeting with prayer, and 
yet this was the case here. Neither do we remember such hearty sing- 
ing, or the impressive occurrence of a number of men rising in the body 
of the meeting and repeating the text of Scripture uppermost in their 
minds, — perhaps from the very fact that they were those which had 
brought the most comfort to their own souls. Some of tliese texts were 
suggestive. 'Hitherto hath the Lord helped me,' said one; 'God be 
merciful to me, a sinner,' said another; 'Do thyself no harm,' said a 
third; ' He that cometh to me I will in nowise cast out,' said a fourth; 
* Bless the Lord, O my soul,' said a fifth ; ' Keep thy heart with all dili- 
gence, for out of it are the issues of life,' said a sixth ; and the whole of 
this exercise was closed with the Doxology.'' 



FULL AND ACTIVE OPERATION'S. 133 

I would state that on Sundays three meetings are 
held, one of them a Sunday-school; that women's 
meetmgs and Bible-classes are also held; so that 
there are many gatherings in the course of the week. 

There are four great branches of the Temperance 
work to which I will barely allude before I close 
this section of my book: the ISTational Temperance 
League, Samuel Bowly president, Kobert Kae secre- 
tary ; the United Kingdom Alliance, Sir Wilfred Law- 
son president, Thomas Barker secretary; the United 
Kingdom Band of Hope Union, Samuel Morley, Esq., 
president; and the Scottish Temperance League for 
Scotland, Hon. Wm. Collins (at present the Lord 
Provost of Glasgow) president, and Wm. Johnston 
secretary. All these are in full and active operation. 

The United Kingdom Alliance, under the indefati- 
gable labors of its secretary and executive board, are 
constantly agitating the political question. . The Band 
of Hope Union principally among the children, and 
the two Leagues for the promotion of total-abstinence 
principles and prohibition of the liquor traffic. Then 
the Good Templars are rendering efficient service. 
The enterprises formed as auxiliaries to the great 
work are very numerous. 

There is the "Medical Temperance Society;" and 
nearly every town and religious denomination in the 
kingdom has its efficient society. Then the " London 
Temperance Hospital" has been in operation about 
six years, and during that time about eight thousand 
patients have passed under treatment, eight hundred 
of whom have required continual nursing and clinical 
treatment. Alcohol has been excluded from all these 
eight thousand cases, with one exception, and in that 
one case the result was unfavorable. So that Avhile 
9 



134 THAXK GOD AKD TAKE COURAaE. 

intemperance abounds, there are earnest, self-denying, 
noble efforts to dry up this fearful ulcer, this moral 
pollution, which, if unhealed, must constantly and 
powerfully increase the corruption and hasten the 
decay of the nation. 

As we rejoice in these efforts, and in so much of 
success as has crowned them, let us remember that 
other eyes than ours have been watching these efforts 
to save. Even the eye of Christian faith sees but 
dimly the "joy among the angels oyer one sinner that 
repenteth." But as we remember this, there come 
these blessed companion-words of Holy Writ: "He 
that conyerteth the sinner from the error of his way 
shall saye a soul from death and shall hide a multitude 
of sins ; " and remembering also that " preyention is 
better than cure," we will thank God and take courage, 
belieying that in His own good time He will crown 
eyery good work with His approval; and then, though 
we may have sown in tears, we shall reap in joy, and 
as we go home laden with sheaves we shall be wel- 
comed as co-laborers with Him in preventing sin and 
saying men. 



CHAPTEE IX. 



TEAGEDIES. — THE SHADY SIDE OF LIFE. 



Power of Kindness — The Scotch Minister and the '« Brute " — " I'll kick 
you down stairs " — " The most God-forsaken Wretch on Earth " — 
Perseverance rewarded — "Clothed and in his Right Mind" — The 
States Prison Convict — "The Cold, Glittering Eye " — The Hard 
Heart melted — The Mother's Influence — Scene in Gray's -Inn 
Lane — The Excited Crowd — The Tattered Group, and Death 
among them — The "Bullet-headed Man" — "'Ere's a Swell vants 
to know vat's the Matter " — Alone with the Mob — An Easy Es- 
cape — Men beyond Sympathy — The Toad in the Stone — The 
Murderer in the Portland Prison — Celebrating his Release by a 
Booze — Human Parasites — Tramps — Soup-Kitchens — Getting 
Something for Nothing — Able-bodied "Sponges on the Generous." 

EDEEE are but few instances in which 
kindness has been fairly exercised 
where it has not subdued the enmity 
opposed to it. Its first effort will not 
probably succeed, any more than one 
shower of rain will reclaim the burn- 
ing desert; but shed the dew of its 
holy influence repeatedly on the revenge- 
ful soul, and it may become beautiful with 
the flowers of tenderness. Let any person put the 
question to his soul whether under any circumstances 
he can deliberately resist continued kindness. Good 
is omnipotent in overcoming evil. I know there are 
hard cases, — men who will resist and resent every 
approach; but, from my experience and observation, 

135 




136 "he is a brute/^ 

I believe there are few so hardened but persevering, 
judicious kindness will touch some spot in the heart; 
for they are human. 

A minister of the gospel — a parish minister in 
Scotland — ■ told me that when he first went to Glas- 
gow he determined that he would call on every indi- 
vidual in his parish. — every one. But there was one 
man of whom he was afraid. His friends said, " Do 
not call on him; he may do you a mischief; it will do 
him no good ; he is a brute." " "Well," the minister 
said, " though I felt ashamed of my cowardice, yet 
day after day and week after week passed, and, while 
I visited every one else, I did not call on this man. 
One morning, feeling exceedingly well, — the sky was 
bright, the sun shining, the trees lovely in their foli- 
age, just the morning when a man feels the warm 
blood healthily coursing through his veins, — I said, 
'I will see that man to-day; I am in just the right 
trim for it.'" He went, up three or four pairs of 
stairs, knocking at the door. No answer. He 
knocked again, — no answer; yet again, — no an- 
swer. He opened the door and went in. As he saw 
the poor creature crouching by the empty fireplace, 
he became somewhat alarmed, and wished himself 
away. The man's hair was tangled, his clothing in 
rags, his person filthy, a four-weeks' beard on his 
face, his cheeks sunken and cadaverous. As he 
turned towards him, there was a wild glare in his 
fierce eyes that fairly made his fiesh creep. The first 
words the poor wretch uttered were : 

"Who are you?" 

" I am the minister." 

" Minister! What do you want? " 

" I have called to see you." 



"i'm not much to see." 137 

The man rose upon his feet. "And then," said the 
minister, " I expected a struggle, and began to think 
where I should take him, for I was determined not to 
give him up." The man, coming closer, stretched 
out his hand and said: 

" You've come to see me, have you? Then see me! 
Do you like the looks of me? I'm not much to see, 
am I? Come to see me! " 

Then he came a step or two nearer, and the hot 
breath steamed into the minister's face as he said, 

" 'Now I'll kick you down-stairs." 

" Stop, stop ! Don't kick me down the stairs now, 
for I have a call to make above, and if you kick me 
down now, I shall be obliged to come all the way up 
again, don't you see? ISTow, if it will be any gratifi- 
cation to you to kick the minister down-stairs, who 
has come to you out of pure kindness and good-will, 
let me go and make my visit, and then I will place 
myself at your disposal. That's fair ! " 

" Well, you are a rum one ! " and he shuffled back 
to his seat. 

The minister made his call, and upon returning, 
opened the door and said: 

" ISTow, my man, here I am. I told you I would 
call again. If it will be any gratification to you to 
kick me down-stairs, I am at your disposal." 

" Did you come to see me? " 

" Yes, I did." 

" Sit down;" and he began to talk with him, not as 
if he were a brute, but as a man and a brother. Soon 
the poor creature cried out, while the tears ran down 
his face, " Oh, sir, I am the most God-forsaken wretch 
on earth! " Then he told of a wife and children, of 
sorrow, sin, degradation, and despair. The minister 



138 A YERY HARD CASE. 

poured the oil of sympathy into his broken heart. 
Many other interviews followed; and now, restored 
to wife, children, and society, he has been for some 
years a constant attendant on the ministrations of the 
man who by persevering kindness had touched the 
fountain of feeling in the heart so long hard. It pays 
to persevere. 

In my own experience, I have found among those 
w^ho seemed the most reckless and hardened some 
spot in the heart that was vulnerable, some chord 
that can be touched. Once while speaking to the 
convicts in one of the State prisons, a man sat before 
me with a face almost demoniac in its expression: it 
was a face that repelled and yet attracted me; it was 
what some one has called the " attraction of repul- 
sion." As he fixed his eye on me, cold and steely, 
with the cynical curl of the lips and a sneer, he almost 
fascinated me, and I thought of Coleridge's lines in 
the "Ancient Mariner," — 

" He held him with his glittering eye." 

My wonder was, "Who can he be? Evidently a man 
of large brain, of more than average intelligence; 
and while he fascinated, he embarrassed me. The 
thoughts that flashed through my mind while I was 
speaking were, " I cannot move this man; my words 
fall on him like soft snow on a rock. I wish he 
would not look on me." I became almost confused, 
and saw a smile pass over his face, — a half-con- 
temptuous smile, — as if he were conscious of the 
power he possessed. Seemingly, by concentrating all 
his powers of will, he had almost gained control of 
me. I turned from him with an effort, and said, 
" There may be some before me who think they are 



POWEE OF KIND WORDS. 139 

hardened, are past feeling; God only knows whether 
they are or not; but often we cultivate that hardness, 
when the world turns against us. There may be 
some here who had a good mother; and even here, 
when alone in your cell, in the silence of the night, 
you remember that mother, and the little prayer 
she taught you as you knelt at her side, and her 
gentle, loving hand rested on your head. You almost 
hear the words whispered in your ear; and no human 
eye seeing you, the tears come, and you are melted 
into tenderness ; but in the morning you harden your- 
self again into recklessness." I said something like 
this, steadily keeping my face turned from the man, 
when I was interrupted by so bitter a cry, — " Oh, my 
God ! " — that I turned, and the man, who had risen 
to utter the exclamation, had sunk in his seat and was 
audibly sobbing. I was told by one of the officers of 
the prison that he was one of the hardest cases, the 
most repelling, the most oblivious to kindness of any 
man that had ever come under his supervision. The 
remembrance of a mother whose heart he may have 
broken melted the strong man, and he became as a 
little child. 

Sometimes, even among those whom society throws 
out as things unworthy of love or pity, a Idnd word 
may produce a wonderful effect: among those who 
prey on society, thieves or worse, an expression of 
sympathy, or an act of kindness, will touch the one 
vulnerable spot in their hearts, and the social tiger 
becomes human. 

On one occasion, some years ago, I was strolling on 
a tour of observation up Holborn Hill, — this was be- 
fore the splendid Holborn viaduct was engineered, — 
and I turned into Gray's Inn Lane. On the opposite 



140 A SINISTER-LOOKING ANIMAL. 

side of the street, around the entrance to a court,, in 
a very bad locality, I saw a group of tatterdemalions, 
men, women, and children, some fluttering in rags, 
the very refuse of the slums, evidently in a state of 
great excitement; something out of the common 
order had occurred. 

As I was curious to know, for I often learn some 
lessons from the street folk, and get some ideas of 
strange phases of human nature in a crowd, I crossed 
over. Expecting to hear some foul language, some- 
what in character with the appearance of the crowd I 
was approaching, I soon heard expressions like these : 
"Ah, God bless me, deary, deary me, poor thing; 
well, well, ah well, poor thing." These were words 
of sympathy from human hearts for human sorrow. 
A man had fallen from a scaffold in a neighboring 
street, and was being brought home dead; and all 
this commotion was sympathy for the newly-made 
widow and her children. On the outskirts stood a 
very bad-looking man, with the closely cropped bullet- 
head. The bull-neck, the tiger-jaw, the small light- 
blue eye, a sinister-looking animal, one you would not 
care to meet alone in a dark street at night. He had 
a cat-skin cap, a belcher handkerchief tied loosely 
round his neck, and he evidently belonged to what 
are termed the criminal classes. I said to him: 

" "What's the matter here, sir? " 

He turned his eye full on me for a moment, and 
then said to the crowd: 

" Stand out of the vay, vill ye ! 'ere's a swell vants 
to know vat's the matter." 

I was not much of a swell, but I did want to know 
what the matter was. 

A woman told me the facts of the case, and point- 



A da:n-geeous crowd. 143 

ing to a miserably-looking faded creature, with three 
or four ragged children clinging to her skirts, said: 

" That's the woman that's lost her husband." 

I was startled by this time to find that the crowd 
had closed in upon me, and I must confess I was 
frightened ; my knees grew weak, and I felt a dryness 
of my lips and throat from apprehension. Quickly it 
flashed through my mind — quicker than I can write 
it, — " Here I am in the midst of a crowd of the worst 
characters in London. I am shut out from all help; 
no policeman near should they see fit to assault me. 
I have a gold watch in my pocket, gold and silver 
in my purse. Some of these men and boys are thieves 
by profession; I do not like it. They might strike 
me a blow, drag me down this court, and no one 
would be the wiser. I should be missing," &c., &c. 
All this was very foolish, perhaps. ^ The bullet-headed 
man was close to me, and I did not like that; my 
sensations were not agreeable. 

Summoning up courage, I turned to this man, and 
pointing to the woman, I said: 

"Is this woman very poor, sir?" 

He replied, savagely: 

"Vat do you mean by that, hey? Poor? God 
Almighty help the woman! Look at her, vill ye? " 

I did look: all the womanhood apparently crushed 
out of her. So I boldly pulled out my purse, as I said : 

" "Well, she looks as if she needed help ; poor thing, 
I am willing to help her. I'll give her a half sov- 
ereign, if it will do her any good. Shall I give it 
to you, sir, or to some of these women, or shall I 
give it to the poor woman herself? " 

" God bless you, sir," said one of the women; " give 
it to 'er, she needs it bad." 



IM CALLOUS AI^D DEGEADED. 

" Thank you, sir," said another. 

One with a blackened eye said, holding up a child: 

" Here's one of the children, sir." I turned to go 
away. A passage was opened for me; and though 
I am convinced there were men there who would 
have garrotted me for a shilling, or brained me with 
a life-preserver for half a crown, yet every man, 
as I passed out of the crowd, touched his rag of a 
cap, and said, "Thank ye, sir;" and even my friend 
with the belcher, and the cat-skin cap fitting close to 
his cropped head, looked more like a human being 
than an animal. 

Yet I am compelled to the conviction, that there 
are men and women thoroughly hardened — we 
might almost say, heartless. No kindness can move 
them, no sympathy touch them; who glory in their 
hardness, and seem proud that they are " past feel- 
ing." The author of the " Mock Doctor " says : " Some 
men have hearts so thoroughly bad as to remind us of 
the phenomena often mentioned in Natural History, 
namely, a mass of solid stone, only to be opened by 
force, and when divided, you discover a toad in the 
centre, lively, and with the reputation of being ven- 
omous." There are those that seem to become stolid, 
obtuse, or case-hardened by a continual course of 
recklessness, when the moral sense becomes stultified. 

I give a fact as an illustration. A man in the Port- 
land prison, England, was convicted of manslaughter 
(it should have been murder), and sentenced for five 
years. In a public-house brawl he had killed a man. 
He said he had no animosity against the man, and 
that if he had been sober he would never have hurt him ; 
and yet this man, who knew that drink had made him a 
murderer, was so callous and degraded, that as his 



BEGGAHS A:ND TRAMPS. 145 

term of imprisonment drew to a close, he boasted that 
the gratification he promised himself after his release, 
was a drunken booze at the very tavern which had 
been the scene of the murder. Let us hope such 
cases are very rare. Yet we know there are men, 
and women too, who trade on the benevolence and 
generosity of the soft-hearted, in whose breasts there 
is no response to the kind word; in whom all ap- 
preciation of kindness is dead. Such become the 
parasites of the body politic in civilized communities ; 
and every bit of benevolent effort towards them only 
hardens them, till they sink into the mean begging 
letter-writers, or the not less mean sponges on the 
generous. 

Of this class are many of the tramps that have 
been like an incubus on the industrious and prudent. 
These persons are ever to be found at the soup- 
kitchens, free breakfasts, mingling with the deserving 
poor, and often obtaining the lion's share of the 
charity, — able-bodied men who will not work, whose 
sole business it is to get something for nothing; so 
that the system, sustained by the benevolent as a 
charity, tends to pauperize, rather than to stimulate to 
effort and industry. 

I have more than once offered able-bodied men 
work, and they have given some frivolous excuse. I 
have induced some to work, and with the first result 
of honest labor in money, they have, on some pretext, 
left for the town, only to indulge in a heavy drunk. 

A year or two since, at a free breakfast given to 
four or five hundred of these men out of employment. 
Sir Alderman Garden offered to give work at three 
shillings per day to any really desirous of earning a 
living. A number of hands w^ere held up, and some 



146 EEFUSAL TO WORK. 

sixty or seventy finally resolved to accept the offer. 
Not one of them continued at work for a year, and 
most of them gave out long before the expiration of 
that time. The soup-kitchen, the casual ward, the 
chances of what they can pick up in the streets, are 
preferred by such men to honest labor. 

A friend of mine met one of these loafing gentry 
begging. 

" What do you want? " 

"A job, if you please." 

" Well, what will you come and work in my garden 
for?" 

" Half a crown a day." 

" Well, you come to-morrow, and I will give you 
three shillings." 

The man went away apparently delighted at the 
thought of earning three shillings a day; but he 
never came near the place again. One of the surest 
ways to get rid of such leeches is to set them to 
work. Eeal helpless deserving poverty often hides its 
rags, and shudders at publicity; but the idle "ne'er 
do well," without a blush go straight to the poor-box 
or the soup-kitchen. 



CHAPTEE X. 



a]5rong the poor. — the trafeic en" drikk. 
society's curse. 



Sunday-Morning Breakfasts for Waifs — Homeless Multitudes — A 
Strange Audience — Economizing for a Drink — The Man who 
loved Beer — His heroic Self-Defence — A Pint every Two Hours 
— " Breakfast for Nothing " — Thirty Years lost — Drink, the Cause 
and Curse of Poverty — Soup-Kitchen in Glasgow — Free Sunday- 
Morning Breakfasts in Edinburgh — Seventeen Hundred Victims of 
Drink — "We get Hot Victuals at Home" — "Ducks and Green 
Peas" — "Good Times" turned to "Hard Times" — Extravagance 
of the Poor — Satire of " Punch " — The Irish Famine — Distilleries 
at Work — " Irish Distress, Irish Drinking " — Burton-on-Trent — 
Bass's Beer-Mills — Bass's Annual Beer-Profits £450,000 — The Drink 
Bill — London Paper upon Mr. Bass, M.P. 

T has been the custom for years to pro- 
vide a breakfast of bread and cocoa on 
Sunday mornings at the Field Lane In- 
stitution in London for the waifs who, 
sleeping in the casual wards of the 
workhouse, are literally without house 
or home ; and the large room, capable of 
seating seven or eight hundred persons, 
is generally crowded. They are admitted 
about ten o'clock. A simple religious exercise lasting 
an hour is closed soon after twelve. Then a meal is 
served, sufficiently substantial to appease the pangs 
of hunger, but not appetizing enough to tempt those 
who are not absolutely in need of it. 

147 




148 FIELD LANE INSTITUTION. 

The Field Lane institution is truly a Christian 
work for the benefit of the poor, and has been exten- 
sively useful in educating thousands of children who 
would probably have grown up in ignorance, and 
perhaps crime. It has provided shelter and food for 
multitudes of homeless wanderers who seemed " ready 
to perish;" while boys in large numbers have been 
apprenticed to trades, and hundreds of girls have 
received suitable training for domestic service. Many 
illustrations can be gi^en by the officers of the insti- 
tution of the great good their agencies have been the 
means of accomplishing. 

One Sunday morning I went by invitation to speak 
to the poor creatures who came in for the free break- 
fast. A lady who was present that morning wrote a 
letter in the evening to a friend, in which she says : 
"All day long I have seen the faces of that audience 
before me, — the hopeless, the careless, the weak in 
purpose, the improvident, those just plunged in the 
hungry gulf, some with the inherited stains, and all 
together such a mass ! " It was a painful sight, and 
when I rose to address them, I felt — as I always do 
before such an audience — a strange embarrassment. 
I felt for them a deep sympathy, and yet there were 
some to whom the scanty charity was not " a means 
of grace," who were the more hardened by the be- 
nevolence, and who simply endured the singing, pray- 
ing, and speaking for an hour that they might get the 
cocoa and bread without spending the money they 
needed for the drink. At the close of my short 
speech a lady said to me, " There's a man who wishes 
to speak to you." I went to the corner of the room 
where he was seated, and I noticed that three or four 
men who sat near him had a strange look of expec- 



ITNDESERYIKG POOR. 149 

tancy, and the man had an assured look of confidence, 
• — such a look as one might have on the eve of a vic- 
tory: he had evidently sent for me to chaif me, and 
the other men were confident that their mate v^ould 
let the " temperance bloke " down a few pegs. 

The man began in quite an impudent style, " Did I 
understand you to say that you would take away the 
poor man's beer?" and without waiting for any reply, 
he continued, " Do you suppose I am going to give 
up my beer? !No, sir, no! I couldn't think of such 
a thing, — oh no, sir, couldn't possibly think of such 
a thing! ha, ha! No, sir! Give up my beer?" and 
with that voluble chafi" tickling his mates, who wore a 
broad grin on their faces. " Let me see : I shall have 
work next week, and then I'll have a pint of beer 
every two hours, — a pint in all every two hours, — a 
half-pint every hour all next week! ^ Would you take 
that away from me? Only think, a pint every two 
hours ! I can get a pint for twopence : a half-pint is 
three halfpence; so I get more for the money by 
taking a pint every two hours ; " and so he went on 
awhile. 

I stood mute till he rested ; then I said, " Do not 
suppose, my man, that I shall interfere with your 
beer-drinking; it is nothing to me, personally, Avhat 
or how much you drink. Drink a quart every hour, 
if you can get it; but don't you think it is shockingly 
mean, and miserably contemptible, to brag about how 
much you will drink next week, and sneak in here to 
get a breakfast for nothing, — to boast of a pint every 
two hours for twopence a pint, while you hold in your 
hands the bread and cocoa provided by charity for the 
hungry and destitute? Had you not better save one 
or two of the twopences to buy a breakfast for your- 



150 PAUPEEISM. 

self next Sunday morning, than to sit with the de- 
serving, honest recipient of this charity?" 

The man's face was white, and as I turned to go 
away, one of the men said, " Well, Jem, you got it 
hot this time ! " 

The great difficulty in dispensing these charities is 
to keep out those that are undeserving, and who make 
capital of, and trade on, the benevolence of these in- 
stitutions. At the close of the service, and after 
breakfast, a man wished to sign the pledge. As he 
took the pen, he said, " I wish I had done this Fri- 
day," as he had spent twelve shillings in drink on 
Saturday night, and had nothing left to pay for bed 
or breakfast. Another man came up and said he had 
heard me thirty years ago in New York, and he 
wished from the bottom of his heart he had taken the 
advice then. In all, thirty-nine names were regis- 
tered on the pledge. This reveals the cause of the 
terrible degradation and suffering to be seen in our 
great cities, and the constant call for help. 

Sir "Wilfred Lawson said in Exeter Hall last year, 
" Pauperism, that great sore of the body politic ! 
why, you all know that drink is almost the only cause. 
I do not wish to overstate the fact of pauperism in 
this country." The same may be said with truth in 
America. A late editor in Philadelphia said, " Close 
all the grog-shops in the United States, and all the 
poverty could be relieved by the present existing pri- 
vate charities, and in this republic there need not be an 
almshouse." In the winter of 1878-79 an immense 
soup-kitchen was established in Glasgow; the Lord 
Provost took charge of it. Thousands and thousands 
of people went through his hands, he giving them 
relief. He took the trouble of inquiring into the 



IMPROVIDEN^CB. 151 

cases individually, and he found that there was not 
one teetotaller who came to ask for soup. 

John Butters, Esq., in a letter to the Lord Bishop 
of Peterborough, says that " in Edinburgh there is 
an average attendance of twelve hundred every Sun- 
day morning at the free breakfast, who are, with the 
exception of a mere fraction, victims of drink. On 
'New Year's Eve there were assembled in the Drill- 
hall of Edinburgh seventeen hundred and fifty of 
these people, old and young: with fewer than fifty 
exceptions, they were all drunkards, or the suffering 
offspring of drunkards." 

A little fellow was asked by a lady, " Why do you 
not come for cold victuals anymore?" and replied, 
" Father's signed the pledge, and we get hot victuals 
at home." 

I need not multiply evidence: the people know 
that drunkenness and consequent improvidence is the 
cause of seven eighths of the poverty here and in 
Great Britain. I have it on good authority that 
during the " good times," as they were termed in 
England, three or four years ago, men who earned 
from five to six pounds per week had nothing by 
Thursday or Friday. One man bought a whole suit 
of expensive sealskin, and was found in the gutter 
drunk, and the sealskin soaked with the refuse of the 
streets. 

Men who were earning large wages — five, six, or 
seven pounds a week — were, many of them, the first 
to apply for charity when the hard times came. They 
had lived extravagantly: as a lady said to me, they 
would have ducks and green peas before their em- 
ployers thought they could afford them; they would 
drink champagne, and spend in treating on their pay- 
10 



152 HOW TO COOK A PINEAPPLE. 

night two or three pounds. Some would keep dogs 
for the purpose of fightings and many, even when 
receiving charity, retained the dog, and fed that while 
the children were suffering. The improvidence of a 
certain class of workingmen is frightfully reckless. 
That satire in " Punch " had truth in it, in which a 
lady complains to the greengrocer that pineapples are 
too expensive for her. " Why, seven shillings for a 
pineapple? I must wait till they are cheaper." A 
miner came by in his rough clothes, and cried, " Give 
it to me ; I'll give ye ten shillings for it, if ye'U tell 
me how to cook him." 

There is, and has been for some time, great distress 
among the unemployed in England; and in Ireland it 
seems to have culminated in a famine, and calls are 
made for help, to which the people of this country 
have grandly responded. God forbid that I should 
say one word to check the flow of charity, or to 
depreciate the suffering that calls it forth; but will 
there be one gallon less whisky distilled for the scar- 
city of food? Will one fire of a distillery or brew- 
ery be extinguished? Not all the tears of starving 
thousands can stop that business. In the last fam- 
ine, of 1848, it was stated that many million quar- 
ters of grain were destroyed in Ireland for whisky. 
When children were found dead with the sea-weed 
they had been sucking for nourishment between their 
teeth ; when, as I was told in Brandon by the rector, 
they dreaded to go out at night for fear of stumbling 
over a dead body ; when he fed at his gate three hundred 
of the poor creatures every day, and was compelled to 
sprinkle the stones on which they sat with chloride of 
lime, for fear of infection from the famine fever which 
was raging; — at that very time the smoke of the dis- 



miSH DISTEESS. 153 

tilleries was darkening the air and intensifying the 
horror of the famine. 

A nobleman has made some sensible suggestions 
that universal abstinence from whisky is a remedy for 
the Irish distress. Lord Longford says, "If all 
classes or individuals, without waiting for others, 
would spend on relieving the wants of their poorer 
neighbors, to their own credit, what they now spend 
on whisky, to their own destruction, it would be less 
necessary to make frantic appeals to the government, 
to the landlords, or to private charity. Temperance 
is its own government, its own landlords, its own 
Board of Works." 

The "Irish Ecclesiastical Gazette" says: "Every 
one who lives in Ireland knows pretty well that the 
causes of its chronic distress really are (1) over- 
population, (2) overdrinking. In every town from 
which the cry of distress comes the public houses and 
their owners prosper." The present trouble arises, as 
we all know, from the failure of the crops for the past 
five years; yet the drinking habits of so many in- 
tensifies the evil. But that should not hinder our 
charities. I would feed a hungry man or woman, 
even though I knew their poverty was directly caused 
by drink. I only speak of the drink as one of the 
causes, and as an aggravation of the sufiering we 
deplore and are ready to relieve. The " Gazette " 
concludes a long article with these words : " Those 
who discourage emigration, temperance, and honest 
industry, and foster in the Irish people the insane 
earth-hunger, the waste, the improvidence, the love 
of political excitement, rather than patient, plodding 
industry, — the sin, the misery, the nation's degrada- 
tion, lie at their doors. They are the cause of the 



154: THE BURTOI^ BEEWERIES. 

Irish distress." I merely quote these words for what 
they are worth. 

I have before me an appeal to the Irish people, 
dated "Cork, Feb. 19, 1880," entitled, "Irish Dis- 
tress, Irish Drinldng." After alluding to the dark 
cloud of poverty hanging over so many homes, the 
unfavorable harvest, the great loss in the entire failure 
of so much of the expected crop, it states that " drink 
is pauperizing the people to a far greater extent than 
the failure of the crops," and then asks the question, 
" Why talk of poverty, when £5,000 every week are 
spent in Cork alone in drink? It's all nonsense." 
These are not my words, but the words of a com- 
mittee in Cork who have issued this appeal. In Eng- 
land there is great distress, but we do not hear so 
much of it : whether the English have greater powers 
of endurance, I know not. But spite of distress, the 
business of brewing and manufacturing strong drink 
is active and lucrative. 

Burton-on-Trent is almost wholly given up to the 
manufacture of beer. The place is nothing more 
than a huge brewery, or nest of breweries. Beside 
the lesser ones, here are the beer-factories of Alsopp, 
Ind & Coope, Worthington, Nunnely, Robinson, rep- 
resenting millions of barrels of beer. Then there is 
Bass — his extensive beer-mills covering a hundred 
acres of land, and using two or three hundred quar- 
ters of malt every day, requiring the barley grown on 
sixty thousand acres of good English land, besides 
the hops grown on two thousand acres — yearly rolls 
into the groggeries of London and other great towns 
in England something like a million barrels of beer. 
He owns five miles of private railway in Burton, and 
pays JE2,000 every week in wages. He is a member 



COST OF DRE^^X. 155 

of Parliament, and the profits of the firm in 1878 
were £450,000. 

In 1878, the people spent £160,000,000 for drink, 
half of which came out of the pockets of the poor. 
In one city, the amount sold across the counters of 
the public houses was £20,000 per week; while at 
that very time £10,000 were raised to care for the 
poverty-stricken. Paupers who received out-door 
relief of half a crown per week, in several instances 
have been known to spend it all in one evening, and 
live by begging till the next day for their relief came 
round. 

I quote from a London paper: 

" Of all the sickening announcements we ever read, the announce- 
ment that Mr. Bass, M.P., will find employment for men who have lost 
their work through bad trade is the most revolting. Mr. Bass is the 
most noted brewer, and that fact explains our revulsion. Trade is bad, 
but drink must be made ; commerce is depressed, but beer is still de- 
manded ; profits have disappeared, but fuddling is well to the front ! 
This is the horrible revelation which is made by Mr. Bass. It discour- 
ages us. It shows that, so far as our social economy is concerned, the 
last enemy that shall be destroyed is drink. The festive Chancellor of 
the Exchequer has been dining with the licensed victuallers at Exeter, 
and talking vinous nonsense to the beery horde. He has abused their 
traffic and patronized it in the same breath. He has told the victuallers 
how much better they are than their trade, and then that their trade must 
be watched and chained, and have a cordon of restrictions around its 
whole scope. Instead of damning it with the ardor of a patriot, he pets 
it and humors it like a receiver of taxes. He talks against revolutionary 
measures, and warns the country inferentially against the Permissive 
Bill, forgetting that a revolution is better than destruction, and that to 
' be without drink is better than to be without character. The Licensed 
Victuallers' Benevolent Association ! What cruel irony ! What pitiless 
and bitter mockery to many hearts ! '* 



CHAPTEE XI. 

LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY. — HOMELESS HOMES. 
DARKNESS AND LIGHT. 



Homes of the London Poor — Cellar Dwellings — Description of a 
Court in Gray's-Inn Lane — King Cholera — Horrible Filth — 
•' Work in the Five Dials " — Dark Pictures of Life — Tour of In- 
spection with Hon. Maude Stanley — Visiting Low Localities — My 
Audience — A Motley Crowd — Coffee-Palace opened by Dean Stan- 
ley—The Bright Side — The Honest Girl in the Thieves' Court — 
The Newspaper- Vender and the Pocket-Book — "A Real Case" — 
Artful Dodges — The Workman's Independence — " Princi23led agin 
taking Money " — Trust and Patience of the Poor — Life among the 
Lowly — The Crippled Saint — Blue Skies reflected from Muddy 
Pools — The Story of Thomas Wright — A Devoted Son — Exam- 
ples of Nobility in Humble Life — Demands for Human Sympathy. 



,E are often told that the excuse for 
drinking among the poor is their 
wretched homes, the want of air 
and yentilationo I grant it is almost 
an impossibility to give more than 
a faint idea of the homes of the 
London poor. Hundreds of people 
live under the surface of the streets, 
in rooms to which apertures not nine 
inches above the footpath, and not more than six or 
seven inches from the front of the building, afford the 
only means of light and ventilation. In addition to 
the want of light and air, these places are in most 
instances intolerably damp, and the back kitchen is 

156 




TENANT-HOUSES. 157 

generally used by the numerous tenants of the house 
for washing. In eight cases out of ten, the badly- 
formed drains allow gases to escape and quietly poison 
the inmates. 

Some time ago, a court in Gray's Inn Lane was 
cleaned up and made meet for human habitation by 
Lord Shaftesbury's excellent society for improving 
the condition of the working classes. Take the fol- 
lowing literal description of what it was before it was 
reformed. The shutters and doors were broken ; 
from most of the windows projected a well-known 
drying apparatus for the day's wash; the pavement 
was irregular, retaining decomposing matter to con- 
taminate the air; while the basement story of all the 
houses was filled with fetid refuse, of which it had 
been the receptacle for years. In some of the houses 
it seemed scarcely possible that htiman beings could 
live: the floors were in holes, the stairs broken down, 
the plastering had fallen; nevertheless they were 
densely populated, and as much rent paid for the 
rooms as ought to have obtained for the tenants' 
decent accommodations. In one, the roof had fallen 
in; it was driven in by a tipsy woman one night, who 
had sought to escape over the tiles from her husband. 
The foul effluvia in this court actually rendered it im- 
possible for the workmen to proceed for some time 
after the surface had been broken up, and many of 
them were taken ill. It was in this court, which still 
bears his name, that Tyndal, " the true servant and 
martyr of God," as Fox called him, translated the 
Bible ; there, where Stowe wrote : 

" And men and maids went Maying in the glad spring time." 

In the London hospitals, from ten hundred to eleven 



158 WOEK rN" FIVE DIALS. 

hundred cubic feet of space are allowed to each person. 
In some of the houses of the poor, the cubic space 
afforded is less than a hundred and fifty feet per head. 
In the east of London, houses are several feet below 
the level of the Thames. Even the rich and refined 
pay a terrible penalty for the neglect of proper sani- 
tary regulations. They speak correctly who make 
King Cholera sing: 

" What is my court? These cellars piled 

With filth of many a year ; 
These rooms with rotting damps defiled. 
These alleys where the sun ne'er smiled. 

Darkling and drear. 
These streets along the river's bank. 

Below the rise of tide ; 
These hovels set in stifling rank, 
Sapped by the earth, damp, green, and dank ; 

These cesspools wide ; 
These yards where heaps of dust and bone 

Breathe poison all around ; 
These styes where swinish tenants grown 
Half human with their masters, own 

A common ground." 

The Hon. Maude Stanley published a book entitled 
" Work in the Five Dials," in which she says : 

" Such is the scarcity of rooms, that once the workingman has got 
one, he gladly keeps it ; and I have known women to be months and 
sometimes years trying to get into better quarters. In a house I knew 
well, for years the drinking water was drawn from an old beer-barrel 
without a lid, which stood between an unglazed window and an open 
door in the basement, and under a butcher's shop. Through the window, 
which was on a level with the street, every breath of wind would blow 
in the refuse, the germs of animal disease and animal life, so that in 
summer the water was alive with animalculee visible to the naked eye. 
Can we wonder that the father should go to the public-house, preferring 
beer there to foul water at home. 

"In another case, the death of a most excellent woman was caused 
by the condition of the water and the drains. Her husband had been in 
a wholesale business in the city, and she had lived in a good house of her 
own. Her husband lost everything by failure in the city, and died. Her 



PRIVATION^S OF THE POOR. 159 

sons were taken care of by friends, and her daughter served in a baker's 
shop. The mother had taken a poor, little place, trying to earn a scanty 
livino" by selling a few groceries. Last summer she felt languid and ill 
from the bad odor outside the house, which came in through the open 
door. In vain she applied to the landlord. Nothing was done. At last 
she wrote to the Sanitary Inspector. The tank, which was under an oil 
and tallow chandler's shop, was emptied. At the bottom was found two 
inches of mud, the decomposing bodies of fourteen rats, a bar of soap, 
candles, and many dead beetles ; and from this tank the poor woman had 
to get all the water she used. Soon the poor woman was taken to the 
hospital, where she died. Might not such hardships make them more 
drunken and immoral? " 

I am well aware that to the poor denizens of these 
miserable tenements, the public-house, warm, well- 
lighted, and cosy, offers a strong temptation; and I 
have the deepest sympathy with these poor unfortu- 
nates, whether brought to such straits by their own 
act or their parents' neglect. Still the fact stares us 
in the face, that you may search through London in 
its worst localities, street after street, court after 
court, alley after alley, and you will find but an almost 
infinitesimal portion of the inhabitants of these stifling 
dens are total abstainers from drink. Almost the first 
idea that takes hold of a man or woman when deter- 
mined to be free from the drink, is to get out of the 
slums ; the tendency at once in most cases is to clean- 
liness, and the struggle commences to get clear of 
their surroundings. I have seen, and so have all who 
have visited these localities, the poor attempts at com- 
fort and personal cleanliness, with some little attempts 
at ornament, perhaps a poor flower in the window, or 
a cheap picture on the wall. I have spent many hours 
in company with city missionaries in visiting low 
localities. 

The Hon. Maude Stanley sent me her book called 
" Work in the Five Dials," which led to an interview 



160 A MOTLEY ASSEMBLAGE. 

with her, and under her guidance I made a tour oC 
observation in Princes Row, Grafton Street, Porter 
Street, and several alleys and courts in the vicinity of 
Five and Seven Dials. She has done, and is doing, a 
noble work in efforts to ameliorate the condition of 
the people. I spoke to an audience of four hundred, 
gathered together from the different streets in the 
neighborhood; and after the address, a temperance 
society was formed. It was a motley crowd, an au- 
dience of great contrasts : there was the Right Honor- 
able and the costermonger, the Countess and the 
unfortunate, the nobleman and the beggar, the re- 
fined and the degraded, the gentleman and the thief, 
the rich and the poor meeting together, and the Lord 
the maker of them all. 

The temperance society is flourishing, and a few 
weeks ago I received a letter from Miss Stanley giving 
very gratifying accounts of the success, and the open- 
ing of a coffee-palace, called the Stanley Arms, by 
Dean Stanley and other gentlemen interested in the 
work. Wherever this work has been carried on, an 
evident improvement has been manifest in the habits 
of these people; many have become Christians, and 
the drink maniacs have been found clothed and in 
their right mind, sitting at the feet of Jesus. Not- 
withstanding the fact admitted by all total abstainers 
or otherwise that drunkenness is the chief cause of 
the misery of the poor, there are many — too many, 
for the credit of the Christian church — of God's own 
saints hiding their sufferings and their privation, and 
bearing and enduring enough to appall the stoutest 
heart. 

Why should we be ever hearing of one side? and 
that the worst of the poor ones who perforce are com- 



THE BRIGHTER SIDE. 161 

pelled to dwell in the horrible surroundings of some 
of the slums, just take the following well- authenti- 
cated fact. 

One day, a little girl, living with her father in a 
couf t of ill-repute, picked up a pocketbook containing 
bank-notes of the value of forty-five pounds. The 
other contents of the packet included the address- 
card of the owner; and consequently a day or two 
after, a very poor-looking old man called at the gen- 
tleman's office, left his address, and requested Mr. 
to pay him a visit, if he had lost anything. 

On receipt of this welcome news, the owner of the 
property hastened to the court designated — a place 
which was seemingly a rendezvous of thieves and 
loose women. The intruder found himself interro- 
gated by an apparent descendant of " Bill Sikes," who 
in peremptory tones desired to know his business; 
but mentioning the name of the man wanted, he soon 
appeared on the scene, and the two made their way 
into one of the dens of an upper story, where a brief, 
whispered conversation ensued. 

" Are you the gentleman I called on this morning?" 

"Yes." 

" Have you lost anything? " 

" Yes ; I have lost my pocketbook." 

"What was in it?" 

" Forty-five pounds." 

"Oh, that's all right," the man went on. "Well, 
I've got it up-stairs, under my bed. You go and walk 
up Holborn, and I'll follow you. Don't say nothing 
about it to nobody; they're all thieves. Be off as 
quick as you can, and don't look as if you thought I 
should follow you, but walk right away." 

Obeying these injunctions to the letter, the gentle- 



162 HONESTY IN THE SLUMS. 

man was soon overtaken by the old man, who handed 
him his property from a bmidle of rags. " There, 
there it is," he said. " My httle girl found it, and 
brought it to me; and as I found your card in it, I 
came straight off to you about it. You'll find the 
money all right, and all the rest of the things just as 
she picked it up. But don't say nothing about it; 
'cos if them fellows knowed I'd done this, they'd make 
the place too 'ot to 'old me. They are all thieves, and 
I was afraid that they might smell a rat if you stopped 
there." 

When he received five pounds' reward, and five 
shillings for his daughter, the old man was, if possi- 
ble, as much dazzled at the liberality of " Verax," as 
the latter was surprised at so uncommon an example 
of honesty. As regards the finder of the book, no 
words can express her consternation at the sudden 
turning up of so grand a personage as the city mer- 
chant. She sobbed as though her heart would break, 
supposing she was about to be imprisoned for the 
crime of finding so much treasure. The father even 
offered an explanation by way of apology : " She so 
often hears of her companions being quodded, that 
she thought it had come to her turn." This is a 
highly gratifying, but by no means solitary example 
of heroic honesty among the very poor. 

On another occasion, three hundred and fifty pounds 
were picked up by a newspaper seller, and were faith- 
fully restored to the owner. 

Passing down Bishopsgate Street, one Saturday 
evening, I saw a group collected around a poor 
woman, who lay on a door-step, apparently very ill. 
I asked what the matter was, as the poor creature 
was groaning. How sad that drunkenness being so 



TRUE INDEPENDENCE. 163 

common, my first thought should be, " She's drunk." 
As no one answered my question, I stooped over her 
to aseertam, but I detected no smell of drink; and 
after paying for a cab to convey her home, I turned 
to go away, when a man apparently of the poorest 
said, "That's a real case, sir; some is sham. Ah, I 
know a good deal about it, sir." I said, " What do 
you mean by sham?" "Yell, sir, I s'pose you know 
there's a wariety of dodges to get a little. Yell, poor 
things, I don't blame 'em; they 'as 'ard lines — vot 
with 'ard times and the drink, and von thing and 
another, ve all of us 'as 'ard times, ^ow, sir, you'd 
'ardly think that I 'aven't put a drop of liquor to my 
lips for twelve years, and yet I'm werry often 'ungry; 
it's so 'ard to get work." I said, "I'll give you a 
couple of shillings to help you on." He said, "No, 
sir, I thank you, sir; I don't need it^ to-night. I had 
a job of work this week, and I'm going to get my 
money, eight shillings, and I expect another job next 
Thursday, and I'll get on werry well till then. I 
shouldn't find it so 'ard, but I'm keeping my old 
mother." 

At this I urged him to take the money, or more if 
he needed. He said, "Yell, sir, you may think it 
hodd, but I have a principle never to fake money 
unless I'm hawful 'ard hup, and can't get along no- 
vays without it. ^N'ow, sir, you give that money to 
somebody vat's vorse off than me. You'll find 'em. 
I can get along, and I'm principled agin taking 
money if I can get along without. I don't think it's 
right." And though I pressed the money on him, he 
refused, and said with a smile, as I left him, " Thank 
ye all the same, sir; it isn't a vim, it's principle. 
Good night." I said, " You'll shake hands with me?" 



164 THANKFUL — FOR WHAT ? 

and I gave him a hearty grip of the hand, and left 
him a gentleman of principle. 

A gentleman — a clergyman — said to me : "I have 
visited at the houses of the rich, and stood by the 
bedside of the wealthy. But never have I been so 
lifted up above myself and stimulated to a better 
life; never have I seen such grand examples of pa- 
tience, trust, and endurance; never have I seen such 
cheerful submission to that which, when witnessed, 
amazes us that any poor human being can exist under 
its severity, than by the side of the bedridden, the 
crippled, and the suffering, who are in the midst of 
poverty, not knowing what would befall them on the 
morrow, living actually by faith, yet rejoicing and 
thankful in the midst of privation and suffering." 

Come with me; turn under this low doorway; 
climb these narrow, creaking stairs; knock at the 
door. A pleasant voice bids you enter. You see a 
woman sixty-four years of age, her hands folded and 
contracted, her whole body crippled and curled to- 
gether, as cholera cramped, and rheumatism fixed it 
twenty-eight years ago. For sixteen years she has 
not moved from her bed, nor looked out of the win- 
dow; and she has been in constant pain, while she 
cannot movS a limb. Listen — she is thankful. For 
what? For the use of one thumb; with a two-pronged 
fork, fastened to a stick, she can turn over the leaves 
of an old-fashioned Bible, when placed within her 
reach. Hear her: "I'm content to lie here as long as 
it shall please Him, and to go when He shall call 



me." 



Miss Maude Stanley, in her book, says : 

" As in looking into a small pool of water remaining in the gutter of 
the dirtiest court, after a heavy shower of rain, we may see reflected the 



ROMANCE OF POYERTY. 165 

« 

clear blue sky and the fleecy cloud, so may we see amongst the poorest 
and the most suffering, the reflection of Divine love and of Divine en- 
durance. These sights may be hidden from the eyes of some ; if so, let 
them cultivate their minds by literature and art, and they will lighten 
their own work and bring brightness to the homes they visit. 

" And will my readers think with me that there is poetry in the story 
of Thomas Wright? They would find him in a low-roofed room of a 
London house ; the walls are covered with dirty paper, the ceiling seems 
never to have been whitewashed. On the bed has lain for seven years a 
poor woman so disfigured that none will look on her willingly for the 
second time. And why is she here? Because she has an old husband 
and a strong son, who love her tenderly. Often has the relieving officer 
offered to take her into the Infirmary ; but no, the young man, who is 
past thirty, says he will never tire of working for his mother. For her 
sake he has never married. He and his father sit all day together at 
their bench, sewing and stitching away at the boots which bring them 
daily food and the few comforts they can get for the sick woman. 

" For her sake, the son cultivates a few plants outside the window, so 
that the breeze may be scented as it comes to her lying on her poor bed. 
The father is past seventy, so that he earns but little ; the son works 
early and late, for he wants all he can get to keep himself, his father and 
his mother. His rent is four and sixpence a weqk, and he pays a neigh- 
bor to come in every day to make his mother's bed. The bed is as nice 
and clean as it is possible for them to keep it. The neighbors tell me 
that Thomas will work hard till ten, and then he will go out and walk 
up and down the street smoking the pipe, which he has denied himself 
before. If you speak to him of his mother, he says simply that he will 
work and work for her, for he could not bear to think of her being in 
the workhouse away from him. To me this seems a long enduring de- 
votion that few sons in comfortable houses equal or surpass." 

I give you one other description from her book. 
She says: 

"Let us go up a dark and winding staircase, and there, high up, over- 
looking the roof, you will see a tailor sitting all day at his window cross- 
legged on his bench. He is always stitching at his work ; and often you 
will see beside him the little child asleep ; it has crept up to be near the 
father it loves so passionately. He is a Cumberland man, and in all the 
weary toil of liis London life he will often turn his thoughts to those 
blue bells and those breezy moors which he has left forever. In another 
room, smaller and more crowded, you may hear of the little boy who 
gets up of a cold winter's morning long before his brothers and sisters 
are awake to light the fire, so that father should have a warm cup of tea 
in bed. Tlie father is good and loving to his children ; he works at home 
with his eldest son of nineteen at bootmaking. In this same room lives 



166 HEROES rN" HUMBLE LIEE. 

his wife, a girl of fourteen, and three small boys. The room is small, 
the walls have dirty paper, but within it there is a wealth of love, spring- 
ing from that little Christopher to his ailing father." 

Truly there are heroes in humble life. Poverty has 
its heroes not a few — its victims many. Sometimes 
victim and hero are blended in one poor, sinning, suf- 
fering, sacrificing, lovable soul. Oh, the stint that 
comes from the want of a penny ! waste of life through 
want of food; death made gall and bitterness by the 
thought of dear ones left destitute ! And yet poverty 
sometimes evolves the noblest heroism, touching 
bruised hearts with tenderest emotions, quickening 
poor souls with hope, evoking self-devotion, and ex- 
ercising the magnanimity that doeth all it can, and 
giveth all it hath. Oh, ye whom God has enriched 
with many blessings, remember it is His will that pure 
hearts shall sympathize with His lowly, though erring 
ones; and that ready hands be stretched forth to 
succor and to save. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

OPPOSITION TO PROGRESS. — THE WORLD'S BENE- 
FACTORS. 



Great Discoverers and Inventors — The Opposition they have met — 
Satire upon Dr. Jenner — An Amusing Picture — Employing the 
Assistance of the Devil — The " Swing Swang " — Practice often 
against Theories — ^" Horses going to the Dogs" — Liverpool & 
Manchester Railway — Railway Engines and Sheep's Wool — Alarm- 
ing Predictions- — The Old Coachman — Heroism for the Truth's 
Sake — Puritanic Strictness — The New-England Sabbath — "Strain- 
ing at a Gnat " — Drunk on the Sabbath — Whistling for a Dog — 
Wife-thrashing and Sabbath-breaking — True Liberty and Sunday 
Trains — Testimonies to the Christian Sabbath: Macaulay, Black- 
stone, Adam Smith, Webster, Theodore Parker, &c. — Holiday not 
Holy Day — Jurists and the Sabbath — Physicians and the Sabbath 
— Statesmen and the Sabbath — The Old Book — Liberty under Law. 

UBLIC opinion does not always deter- 
mine what is right. Let any man ven- 
ture to act an unusual part, and the 
world, or public opinion, will frown on 
his course. The history of discoveries 
and inventions will illustrate the fact. 
Because Eoger Bacon understood " per- 
spective," he was charged with being pos- 
sessed of a devil, and was imprisoned for 
ten years. Galileo, for asserting that the earth moves, 
was condemned to imprisonment and to abjure his 
doctrines on his knees. Report has it that as he rose 
from his knees he said, " It does move, notwithstand- 
Sir Isaac Newton's discoveries were ignored 
11 167 




mg. 



168 COW-POX TRAGEDY. 

by his own university more than thirty years after 
they were pubUshed. Columbus discovered the New 
World, and met with opposition and persecution. Dr. 
Harvey discovered the circulation of the blood, and 
was attacked on all sides with every weapon that 
ignorance, prejudice, spleen and envy could frame 
against him. 

The discoverer of vaccination. Dr. Jenner, was 
opposed by the medical profession and the public. 
I have a curious caricature by Cruikshank, dated 
1812, entitled "The Cow-Pox Tragedy, Scene the 
Last," and dedicated to the "Associated Jennerian 
Cow-poxers of Gloster." It is described as a satire 
on Dr. Jenner and his discovery, and on the antici- 
pated downfall of the Royal Jennerian College. A 
procession at the bottom of the picture is attending 
the funeral of Vaccination, aged twelve years. Above 
is a monument, inscribed " To the Memory of Vac- 
cina, who died April the first." The mourners carry 
placards : " J^ational Vaccine Institution for genuine 

Cow-Pox, by Act of Parliament; L , Undertaker," 

"Surrey Dispensary, &c." In the centre is a sun 
sending forth rays of light, inscribed " Common 
Sense," "Candid Investigation," "Reason," "Relig- 
ion," "Truth." On a curtain near the top of the 
picture is written, " 'Tis Conscience that makes Cow- 
herds of us all." On one side is a cornucopia pour- 
ing out skulls and crossbones, with labels, " Scald 
Heads," " Jennerian Scrofula," " Cow Itch," " Cow- 
pox Mange," " Tumid Glands," "Vaccine Eruptions," 
" Blindness." On the other side is a cornucopia 
pouring forth roses, with the names of the pamphlets 
issued in favor of Jenner, with ridiculous comments. 

I might enumerate other discoverers. John Faust, 



"the rummest go." 169 

the inventor of printing, was charged with employing 
the assistance of the devil in the manufacture of 
books. The inventors of the ribbon-loom, the stock- 
ing-loom, the spinning-jenny, were persecuted. The 
pendulum was ridiculed by the name of the " swing- 
swang." The inventor of the steam-engine was 
called a madman. The introduction of gas was ridi- 
culed by the literary and learned, including such men 
even as Sir Walter Scott. Fulton was met by in- 
credulous smiles, rude jokes, and contemptuous ridi- 
cule. 

In every department of science and art inventors 
and discoverers have been opposed, even to our own 
day. Dr. Lardner proved by mathematical demon- 
stration that a steamer could not cross the Atlantic, 
at the very time that the " Great Western " did cross 
it. The early history of railroads is a history of 
opposition, at which we smile to-day. The race of 
horses was to be extinguished. In my collection of 
caricatures I found one entitled " The Horses going 
to the Dogs." A steam-coach, called the " Wonder," 
is passing on the road, crowded within and without 
with passengers, some of whom are taking a sight 
at a grou]3 of horses which are standing in an in- 
closure, looking startled at the phenomenon. One 
blind horse says, "A coach without horses! Non- 
sense ! Come, come, Master Dobbin, you are a trotter, 
but you must not think to humbug me because I am 
blind." Another exclaims, "Well, dash my wig! if 
that is not the rummest go I ever saw ! " Two dogs 
are sitting in the foreground; one asks the question, 
" I say, Wagtail, what do you think of this new in- 
vention?" The other dog replies, "Why, I think we 
shall have meat enough soon." The cows would 



170 HISSING, FIERY SERPENT. 

cease to give milk all along the line, vegetables would 
cease to grow, the cultivation of corn would be pre- 
vented, and all the springs would be dried up by the 
extensive excavations. 

The Liverpool and Manchester Railway was opened 
on the 15th of September, 1830. jS"ever was any 
scheme assailed with stronger invective or ridicule 
than the railway scheme in England. In 1825 the 
" Quarterly Review " says, " We should as soon ex- 
pect people to suffer themselves to be fired off upon 
one of the Congreve ricochet rockets, as to trust 
themselves to the mercy of a machine going eighteen 
or twenty miles an hour." A member of Parliament 
declared his opinion " that a railway could not com- 
pete with a canal, for even with the best locomotive 
engine the average rate would be but three and a half 
miles an hour." 

Among the reasons for preventing the London and 
Northwestern Railway coming to ISTorthampton, it 
was urged that the smoke of the trains would seri- 
ously discolor the wool on the sheep, and the passing 
so repeatedly through their meadows of such a rum- 
bling, hissing, fiery serpent would so alarm, fret, and 
distract their cattle that they could not fat them; 
therefore the road was turned away from Northampton. 

The innkeepers, coach-proprietors, hostlers, and 
coachmen made common cause against the rail. 
"Ah," said one of the last stage-coachmen, in giving 
a history of his opposition and final surrender, "ah, 
sir, I did my hutmost to oppose 'um. I vas von of 
the last to give in. I kep' a-losing day arter day. I 
drove a coach the last day vith an old voman and a 
carpet-bag hinside and some hempty trunks on the 
top. I was determined to 'ave some passengers, so I 



"VE DO mm BEHIND." 171 

took my vife and children, 'cos nobody else vouldn't 
go. Ye vas game to the last, but ve guv in. The 
landlord of this 'ere 'ouse vas an austerious man. He 
use' to hobserve that he honly vished a railway com- 
mittee vould dine hat 'is 'ouse, — he'd pizen 'em all; 
and he vould too, sir! Lor, sir, see vat ve've comed 
to, all along of the rail! Yy, sir, I've been werry 
popular, I have. I've been drownded in Hhank yers' 
from ladies for never letting nobody step through 
their bandboxes. Yy, sir, the chambermaids use' to 
smile hat me, the dogs vagged their blessed tails and 
barked ven I come. But it's all hover now, sir; and 
the gemmen that kep' this 'ere 'ouse takes tickets at a 
station, poor fellow! and the chambermaids makes 
scalding hot tea behind a mahogany counter for people 
as 'as no time to drink it in. Ah, veil, veil, sir, 'ow 
ve do run behind in this vorld, surely ! " 

In all the world's history, when men have touched 
a prejudice, or affected an interest, or interfered with 
some vested rights, or struck a blow at some old 
established wrong, they have borne the scorn, con- 
tempt, ridicule, persecution and opposition of public 
opinion, all the way to the victory. How often a 
really true and brave man has been hindered in a 
course of usefulness, by the slavish fear of incurring 
the censure of the world! I do not say that public 
opinion is 7iever right. On abstract questions it is 
generally right; for instance, truth, righteousness, and 
justice are good, but in the application of these prin- 
ciples, public opinion is often at fault. 

The great error with many of us is, that we do not 
try our conduct by the standard of eternal right, but 
by "What will others say?" "What will others 
think?" "How far will public opinion sustain me?" 



172 RIGHTEOUS OYER-MUCH. 

The world will never be the better for us, if we trim 
our sails to the breeze of public opinion. It is our 
duty to settle the matter — "am I right?" — and then 
resist, as a rock resists the dashing wave. Let me 

"Go forth among men, not mailed in scorn, 
But in the armor of a pure intent. 
Great duties are before me and great aims ; 
And whether crowned or crownless, when I fall, 
It matters not, so that God's work is done." 

Oh, it is grand to see a man confronting the crowd 
for their own good, — seizing a truth, standing by it, 
and, if need be, dying for it; becoming a pioneer of 
humanity in some new rough path; at his own risk 
and cost, building a pathway on which another gen- 
eration shall march to higher degrees of wisdom, 
virtue, and freedom! 

I know, too, it is becoming the fashion to rail at the 
Puritans, and ridicule the strictness of our fathers, in 
moral and religious things, — a very easy thing to do. 
It always has been easy to ridicule any effort to be 
better, or do better; probably it always will be. The 
very imperfections of our earliest efforts in any direc- 
tion leave many an open place for assault and ridi- 
cule. There have been very spicy things said and 
written about the dolefulness of the early New Eng- 
land Sabbath. 

It is not to be denied, that in this age we are terri- 
bly afraid of being too good, of obeying God's law 
too strictly. " Being righteous over-much " is con- 
stantly quoted against those who plead for the stricter 
observance of the Sabbath, and protest against its 
violation. Any law or custom that interferes with 
our real, or supposed comfort, or the largest personal 
liberty, we are apt to resist as an injustice. I admit 



TWO SHILLINGS ON SUOT)AY. 173 

there is such a thmg as "straining at a gnat and 
swallowing a camel." A lady in Edinburgh was 
walking in the street, one Sunday morning, with her 
pet dog, when the animal strayed from her. Seeing 
a man, who happened to be very drunk, she asked 
him if he would be kind enough to whistle her dog 
back to her. " Madam, I'm ashamed of ye, to ask a 
decent body hke me to violate the holy Sabbath day 
by whistling." 

A gentleman in Scotland hired a carriage to take 
him to church. He asked the driver what the fare 
was. " Our regular fare is one shilling, but we charge 
two shillings Sunday to discourage Sabbath-breaking." 

In an old church register in 'New England is found 
recorded the fact that a certain man thrashed his wife 
one Sunday. The church dealt with him for Sabbath- 
breaking only, probably because thrashing his wife 
was either a work of necessity or mercy. To many 
it is very inconvenient to have such intangible things 
as scruples of law and conscience come up to bar 
the way against going where they please, when they 
please, and in what fashion they please. All the dis- 
tortions of obedience to the biblical Sabbath require- 
ments do not alter one hair's line the beneficent effect 
of obedience to them, or any other of God's laws. We 
are finding out, the medical faculty are finding out, 
the lunatic asylums are showing, the statistics are 
proving, and all thoughtful experience is testifying, — 
that the Sabbath, and the Bible way of keeping it, 
holds in its hands the life, health, sanity, wisdom, pri- 
vate and public virtue, well-considered statesmanship 
— everything outside of what is called religion that 
civilization values, and all of the true law of liberty 
in rehgion also. 



174 THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 

There is no true liberty but in steadfast obedience 
to righteous law. That brotherhood of locomotive 
engineers that met some years since in St. Louis, had 
felt their way along the path of experience, when they 
adopted two things: One, a rule expelling an engi- 
neer addicted to the use of intoxicating drinks, and 
the other a resolution favoring the abolition of Sun- 
day trains. 

Is it reasonable to suppose that we can drop a cor- 
ner beam out of our building in family or state, and 
not expect the whole structure to be unsafe? The 
very rate at which we are travelling, in our path of 
advance, should make us look well to every bolt and 
fastening. Lord Macaulay said, " If Sunday had not 
been observed as a day of rest, during the last three 
centuries, we should have been at this moment a 
poorer and less civilized people than we are." Black- 
stone adds his testimony: "A corruption of morals 
usually follows a profanation of the Sabbath." Says 
Adam Smith, " The Sabbath, as a political institution, 
is of inestimable value, independently of its claim to 
divine authority." Justice McLean declares, " "Where 
there is no Christian Sabbath, there is no Christian 
morality; and without this, free institutions can not 
long be sustained." Daniel Webster said : " The 
longer I live, the more highly do I estimate the Chris- 
tian Sabbath, and the more grateful do I feel toward 
those who impress its importance on the community." 
Theodore Parker (though he did not believe in the 
Sabbath as a divine institution, yet did believe in the 
day as a political necessity) said : " I should be sorry 
to see the Sunday devoted to common work; sorry to 
hear the clatter of a mill, or the rattle of the wheels 
of business on that day. I look with pain on men 



STEo:Kra TESTiMOi^rsr. 175 

engaged needlessly in work on that day; not with 
the pain of wounded superstition, but a deeper re- 
gret." When Mr. Parker was travelling on the con- 
tinent of Europe, he expressed the decided opinion 
that the 'New England method of keeping Sunday 
was far better than the European method : " For on 
the continent of Europe the Sunday is apt to be a 
mere holiday, while in New England it is a thoughtful 
holy-day." (Vol. iii. 89.) 

After John Quincy Adams had been President of 
the United States, he presided at a large national 
convention for promoting the better observance of the 
Sabbath. He signed the appeal which the conven- 
tion made to the country. Our greatest judge, The- 
ophilus Parsons, would never give legal advice on 
the Sabbath-day, because he agreed with Sir Matthew 
Hale in thinking that the rest of one day in seven 
is a duty for all men, keeping the mind and body 
healthy. 

The celebrated physician Dr. Farre declared that 
the keeping of the Sunday is necessary for the public 
health; and our own physician. Dr. J. C. Warren, 
fully indorsed the testimony of Dr. Farre. Wm. Wil- 
berforce said, "I can truly declare that, to me, the 
Sabbath has been invaluable." When Sir Samuel 
Eomilly, Solicitor-General of England during Fox's 
administration, committed suicide (ISTov. 2, 1818), Mr. 
Wilberforce said, "If he had suffered his mind to 
enjoy such occasional remission, it is highly probable 
that the strings of life would never have snapped 
from over tension." The celebrated Castlereagh, who 
was Foreign Secretary in 1812, committed suicide in 
1822; Wilberforce said, "Poor fellow, he was cer- 
tainly deranged, — the effect, probably, of continued 



176 THE OLD BOOK. 

wear of the mind and the non-observance of the Sab- 
bath. It is curious to hear the newspapers speaking 
of incessant apphcation to business; forgetting that 
by the weekly admission of a day of rest, which our 
Maker has enjoined, our faculties would be preserved 
from the effects of this constant strain." 

"We shall find, the more fairly we examine it, if we 
really desire to find, the way to give liberty and rights 
to all, if we wish to rule and make safe all dangerous 
classes, insure the largest culture, the happiness with 
least alloy, the safety in our progress, the most bril- 
liant and steady light on the page of our future his- 
tory, — we shall find the easiest, the least costly, and 
the surest way to do this contained in the leaves of an 
old Book that all the power of human research, all 
the pride of human opinion, or all the subtlety of 
mortal reasoning, can never put out of the world. 
God be thanked, so clear it is, and so simple, that 
a wayfaring man or a fool need not err in finding his 
right way by it. The Hebrew boy Samuel found it 
so, thousands of years ago, even though examples of 
moral weakness and wickedness poisoned nearly all 
the atmosphere about him. He never whined about 
its being hard to obey these laws, never considered 
himself abused that he could not follow a multitude 
to do evil, and be able at the same time to clutch the 
reward of obedience. He grew to make and unmake 
kings for his nation, and was de facto king in the 
sense of ruling; and his ruling in that fashion will 
live when Bismarcks and Beaconsfields have been 
obliterated from earthly history. 

As in mathematics, everything possible in our moimt 
to the farthest bound of the universe, and by which 
we measure, assign, and weigh all things, is wrapped 



BE:N"JAMrN- FRANKLrN". 177 

in a few simple laws; even so all the possibilities of 
our personal future, all the hopes of a true and glori- 
ous national future, all that will yet glorify human 
life, find their only certainty in the steadfast obedi- 
ence to and the practice of the few laws of that grand 
old Book to whose requirements we shall be com- 
pelled to submit in one fashion or another. Benjamin 
Franklin advised Thomas Paine not to print the "Age 
of Reason," " for," said he, " if men are so bad with 
the Bible, what would they be without it? " 



CHAPTEE XIII. 



MAISXINESS AND MORAL PRESTCIPLE. — INDUSTRY 
VERSUS EDLEKESS. 



False Ideas of Manliness — Physical Strength no Test — Lord Bacon a 
Swindler — Fast Living, cowardly — Horse-Racing and Prize-Fight- 
ing — Manliness is Godliness — False Opinions scorn Labor — " Only 
a Mechanic" — The Fashion of Useless People— "Only a Third- 
class Carriage " — Story concerning Lady Charlotte Guest — The 
Cinder-hole — Labor and Etiquette — Idle Men mischievous — The 
Dandy — Consequences of a Useless Life — Career of Beau Brum- 
mell — The Fop in a Breach-of-Promise Suit — Influence of Society 
upon, us — Example better than Precept — Value of a Noble Life — 
Ministers and the Half-price — Genius no Substitute for Moral Prin- 
ciple — Burns's Perverted Genius — The Painter Haydon. 



VERY young man considers it high 
praise to be called a "manly fellow;" 
and yet how many false ideas there are 
of manliness ! Physical strength is not 
the test. Samson was endowed with tre- 
mendous bodily powers. He was a grand 
specimen of humanity. See him rending 
the lion as he would a kid, or carrying away 
the gates of Gaza ! But he was a weak creature after 
all, unable to resist the wiles of an artful woman. 

Great intellect is not the test of true manhood. 
Some of the most intellectual men who have ever 
lived were not manly. Francis, Lord Bacon, was a 
prodigy of intellect, — the Sciences sat at his feet ex- 
tolling him as their benefactor; yet we see him led 

178 




YICE IS UNMAJSXY. 179 

down Tower Hill a prisoner for swindling! "Was he 
manly when as Lord Chancellor he took with one 
hand £300, and with the other £400 from the op- 
posing suitor, and then gave judgment in favor of the 
£400? See him enter his prison, convicted of bribery, 
fraud, and deceit! "Was he, with his great intellect, 
manly? 

Fast living is not manliness. Some men think that 
to strut, and to swagger, and puff, and swear, and 
become an adept in vice, is to be manly. To some, 
the essentials of manliness are to '* toss off their glass 
like a man," " spend money freely like a man," " stand 
up in a fight like a man," " smoke like a man," " drive 
a fast horse like a man;" forgetting that virtue is 
true manliness. Temperance, chastity, truthfulness, 
fortitude, benevolence, are characteristics and essen- 
tials of manliness. 

There is no manliness in sin of any kind. Vice is 
essentially unmanly. Just so far as evil habits are 
connected with what are called manly sports, degrada- 
tion follows. 

There may be manliness in a rowing-match, a foot- 
race, games of cricket or ball, pitching quoits, skat- 
ing, if disconnected with gambling; but prize-fighting, 
dog-fighting, cock-fighting, are not manly sports. I 
express my own opinion in saying that I do not con- 
sider horse-racing a manly amusement. Of the two, 
I think prize-fighting the more honorable. If two 
men choose to train themselves to endurance, patience, 
and skill, and then meet of their own free will to 
batter themselves to pieces, I consider it is more manly 
than to drive a horse, with whip and spur, till his 
reeking sides are covered with foam and dripping 
with blood and sweat, his nostrils distended and bleed- 



180 "oh, my hoeses!'^ 

ing, his whole frame quivering with pain and exhaus- 
tion, for the sake of sport, and transferring cash from 
the pocket of one man to that of another without an 
equivalent. 

To be manly is to be honest, generous, brave, noble, 
and pure in speech and life. The highest form of 
manliness is godliness. Some one has said, "An 
honest man is the noblest work of God." If we 
mean honesty in the common acceptation of the word, 
it is not true ; a merely honest man is not the noblest 
work of God, but the man who is honest toward God 
and toward his fellow-man, — in short, a Christian 
man, — is the noblest work of God. 

There is a class of men and women who despise 
labor, who avoid all intimacy or contact with those 
who work for a living. " Oh, he 's only a mechanic ! " 
" Oh, she lives out ! " Some young ladies would be 
shocked at the idea of marrying a mere mechanic. 
In fact it is the fashion among the most useless of all 
God's creatures to despise those who are the most 
useful, and by whom they obtain all that makes them 
what they are. They revel in the Vealth obtained by 
labor while they heartily despise it. 

A gentleman was travelling on a train in England 
when a collision took place. He was greatly alarmed 
for his horses, and cried out, " Oh, my horses ! my 
horses ! " but, putting his head out of the window, he 
e:^claimed, "Ah, thank God! it's only a third-class 
carriage ! " 

A story is told of Lady Charlotte Guest, the prin- 
cipal proprietor of the Dowlais Iron "Works. Her 
aristocratic friends, while they enjoyed her princely 
hospitality, had often sneered at her extensive iron 
works, which they called her " cinder-hole." As soon 



A BALAl^CE-SHEET. * 181 

as the balance-sheet of the works was completed, a 
copy was always dispatched to her wherever she 
might be. On one occasion she gave a grand party 
at her London residence, and when the festivity was 
at its height, a courier arrived from Dowlais with a 
tin box, containing the expected document. Lady 
Charlotte ordered it to be brought to her in the bril- 
liantly-lighted saloon, where she was surrounded by a 
circle of her aristocratic friends and relatives, who 
probably occasionally enjoyed a sneer at the " cinder- 
hole." 

"What's that. Lady Charlotte?" 

All crowded around the tin box. 

" 'Tis our balance-sheet." 

"Balance-sheet!" exclaimed the fair aristocrats. 
""What's a balance-sheet?" 

" It 's an account made up and showing the profits 
down at the works for the last twelve months." 

The company laughed, for they thought of the " cin- 
der-hole." "And so that's a balance-sheet!" crowd- 
ing round the paper with the double entries, and the 
red lines, looking on it as a phenomenon. " Why, I 
never saw one before! But what are the profits?" 

Lady Charlotte, not seeming to heed them, said as 
though she spoke to herself: 

" Three hundred thousand pounds ! a very fair year," 
and she recommitted the balance-sheet to its tin case, 
while peeresses looked almost petrified. 

" Three hundred thousand pounds profits ! What, 
you don't mean that in one year? " 

" In one year," was the reply, as though there was 
nothing at all remarkable about the matter. 

" I'd be a Cinderella myself! " said a Border count- 
ess, " to a husband with such a business. Three hun- 



182 "let us be genteel." 

dred thousand pounds, and all from that nasty cold 
iron, — it beats the glass slipper ! " 

" Labor is the great law of the universe ; labor is 
the law of humanity; labor is essential to the healthy 
development of our physical, intellectual, and moral 
life." Think of a man doing nothing! What weari- 
ness! What an intolerable life! Why, the most 
dreadful punishment is solitary confinement with 
nothing to do. Men have committed suicide, weary 
of living to eat, drink, and sleep. Idle men are gen- 
erally mischievous, arising from the fact that a man 
must do something, and those who despise honorable 
labor verify the truth of Dr. Watts's lines : 

" Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do." 

They could sympathize with the boy who sings : 

" I wish I was the President of these United States ; 
I never would do nothing, but swing on all the gates ! " 

and well would it be for society if they did nothing 
worse; but what miseries, what mental dyspepsia 
afflicts the wretch who has nothing to do ! 

Ezekiel says, " Behold this was the iniquity of thy 
sister Sodom; pride, fulness of bread, and abundance 
of idleness was in her ! " 

Milton puts this sentiment into the lips of Adam, 
" God hath set labor and rest as day and night to men 
successive." Man must labor. We must all earn our 
bread by the sweat of the brow, or of the brain, either 
with the hands, or feet, or head, on the bench, at the 
bar, in the pulpit, in the press, on the deck, or in the 
trenches, behind the counter or in the counting-house. 

It is the great ambition of a class to be genteel, as 
Mrs. Richley says, " Let us be genteel or die ! " We 



BEAU BRUMMELL. 183 

must do the genteel thing. Better tell a lie than 
break the rules of gentility! By gentility I do not 
mean good breeding, or politeness. It is bad manners 
to push a knife into your mouth while eating — very 
bad! but not so bad as to forget your true friends 
and follow after those of a higher degree. It is bad 
manners not to distinguish a fork from a toothpick, 
but it is not so mean as to be ashamed of honest pov- 
erty, or blush for an honorable calling. The gentility 
I mean is a " diabolical invention which kills natural 
kindness and honest friendship." The most genteel 
people are often the most heartless. 

One of the most useless of all human animals is 
the dandy. He is a creation of the tailor. You meas- 
ure his worth by the yard. You are puzzled to know 
whether he is a female gentleman, or a male lady; 
he will exhibit himself to the admiration, as he sup- 
poses, of every lady who is so fortunate as to cross 
his path. He does nothing for himself, or anybody 
else; his occupation is to dress, and perfume himself, 
and carry a dainty little cane, doing himself up as if 
he were a shirt. 

There can hardly be a better lesson taught of the 
consequences of a useless life than that presented by 
the brilliant yet melancholy career of Beau Brummell, 
the refined, the fastidious Beau Brummell, the " glass 
of fashion and the mould of form," " the observed of 
all observers," the companion and pet of royalty and 
the nobility. At the last of his life he could not be 
kept clean. The poor, " dandled, deserted, doomed, 
demented dandy, died wretchedly on a straw mattress, 
in such a disgusting state as cannot be described." 

Yet after all, some of these fops estimate themselves 
at about a fair price, as in a suit for damages in a 
12 



184 EXAMPLE VS. PEECEPT. 

breach-of-promise case, one of this class was offered 
two hundred dollars to settle it. " Two hundred dol- 
lars! Two hundred dollars for ruined hopes, for 
blighted affections, for a wretched existence! Two 
hundred dollars for a blasted life ! Two hundred dol- 
lars for all this! No, never! never! Make it three 
hundred dollars, and it's a bargain! " 

Almost every man is sensible of the influence of 
society on his own mind. We are often conscious of 
the influence for evil or good of a single mind with 
which we are brought in close contact. " A doubter 
will awaken in us a spirit of doubt; the caviller, a 
captious spirit; the cold-natured chills our own feel- 
ings; the man of low aims or small energy often 
leaves us listless, hopeless, or inoperative ; the man of 
life, spirit, determination, and energy seems to quicken 
and inspire our own nature." The exhibition of what 
is noble, the embodiment of what is right, beautiful, 
and heroic in a life, produces a far greater effect on 
the human heart than precept or exhortation. " Ex- 
ample is better than precept." 

When Lord Peterborough lodged for a season with 
Fenelon, he said at parting, "I shall become a Chris- 
tian in spite of myself." 

A young man, about to be ordained, stated that at 
one period of his life he had been nearly betrayed 
into the principles of infidelity ; " but," said he, " there 
was one argument in favor of Christianity I could 
never refute, and that was the consistent conduct of 
my own father." 

How many professed Christians fail in exerting an 
influence by inconsistency, their precepts differing 
from their practice. 

A story is told of a minister, who, wishing to take 



"pay like a heathe]^." 185 

advantage of the custom of charging ministers out 
"West half price, said to the landlord of a hotel where 
he had put up, " I am a minister." " What ! you a 
minister! I should never have guessed it* you asked 
no blessing at your meals. I went with you to your 
room, and took away the light, and you did not say 
your prayers. You ate like a heathen, drank like a 
heathen, slept like a heathen, and I guess you had 
better pay like a heathen." 

All the talent, intellect, or genius that men ever 
possessed will not compensate for the want of fixed, 
moral principle. In the world's history, how many 
sad instances appear of men of genius dwarfed like 
wilted weeds, for the lack of moral principle, for the 
want of moral courage, shrinking ever from asserting 
what their own conscience dictates as right, if it 
shocks the prejudices of others; solne are even like 
a very celebrated poet, with a warm heart, generous 
disposition, brave, and at times with high impulses, as 
when he penned the " Cotter's Saturday ISTight; " but 
who for the lack of firm, moral, and religious princi- 
ples, left behind him monuments of his perverted 
genius, in the shape of unpublished poems, songs, and 
letters, at which humanity must blush, and at which 
angels themselves might weep. Had he foreseen all 
the evil eifects that some of his writings were to pro- 
duce in that dear old Scotland he loved so warmly, he 
would have burned them and his pen too. A little 
before his death, he bitterly deplored the existence of 
the unworthy progeny of his genius, and declined 
with horror the proposal of some wretch of a book- 
seller to pubhsh them in full."^ 

* Byron said of Burns: What an antithetical mind, — tenderness, 
roughness ; delicacy, coarseness ; sentiment, sensuality ; soaring and gi'ov- 
elling ; dirt and Deity ; — all mixed up in that compound of inspired clay ! 



186 HAYDON THE PAINTEE. 

I might speak of many others, who by their per- 
verted genius have " fanned the polhited fires of de- 
bauchery; have shed a rainbow lustre around mere 
animaUsm; taught blasphemers a more pithy pro- 
fanity; insulted religion through its forms and its 
professors; treated sacred things with levity; and 
produced immeasurable mischief" among the young 
of both sexes. 

The painter Haydon said: "Willde's system was 
"Wellington's, — principle and prudence the ground- 
work of risk. Mine," says he, " was Napoleon's, — 
audacity, with a defiance of principle, if principle is 
in the way. I get into prison " (and, poor fellow ! he 
killed himself soon after) ; " Napoleon died at St. 
Helena; Wellington is living, and honored; Wilkie 
has secured a competency; while I am poor and ne- 
cessitous as ever." 

Let no man use evil as a means for the success of 
any scheme, however grand. "Permission of evil 
that good may come" may be the prerogative of 
Deity, and should never be ventured on by mortals. 

Poor Haydon said once, " There are three things I 
long to see before I die: the Americans thrashed at 
sea, my own debts paid, and historical painting en- 
couraged by the government." Poor Haydon! he 
died deeply in debt, neglected by the government, 
and the Americans unthrashed at sea. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

HAPPINESS AJiny TRUE HEROISM. — GOLD, WHAT IT 
DOES AND WHAT IT DOES NOT BRING. 



Signing away Liberty — False Ideas of Happiness — Rothschild — John 
Jacob Astor — A Girl's Idea of Perfect Happiness — The Snow- 
blocked Train — Lord Chesterfield's Confession — Irishman's Com- 
plaint of the Moon — "If" — The Two Buckets — Sir John Sinclair 
and the Laborer — "A New Way to pay Old Debts" — The History 
of Misers — Experience of a Millionnaire — " The Happiest Fellows 
in the World " — Anecdote of John Wilson — Happiness among the 
Poor — Lord Braco and the Farthing — The Celebrity and his Hat — 
The Burden of a Debt — The Clergyman and the Collection — Dodging 
Creditors — Indebtedness degrades — Extravagance — Church Debts 
— Sacrifice for Others — Moral Heroism — Victory over Self. 



,HAT false ideas many entertain of 
freedom! Every man desires to 
be free. God has implanted the 
desire in every human heart. 
What is freedom? A man once 
told me he would not sign the 
pledge, because that would be the 
signing away of his liberty ! " What 
liberty?" "Why, to do as I please." 
To do as you please? Is that liberty? There 
is no liberty without law; it is licentiousness. To 
do as you please, independent of the law of God, 
is to be a slave. He only is a free man who renders 
strict and steadfast obedience to righteous law. True 

187 




188 BOAUD A^D CLOTHES. 

liberty consists as much in exemption from the slavery 
within, as the slavery without. 

Remember, young man, whatever elevates man's 
nature, whatever lifts him above the trammels of 
earth and raises him nearer heaven, brings him nearer 
the standard of true freedom; and every passion in- 
dulged is a fetter placed on his intellect; every loiter- 
ing in the mazes of unwholesome pleasure, if at all 
redeemed, must one day be redeemed at too dear a 
price. No man ever excelled without the exercise of 
self-denial. Beneath the allurements of passion there 
lurks a worse than Egyptian bondage. 

Very few people in this world are contented — 
thoroughly contented. A man once put up a board 
on his land, with this notice : " I will give this field to 
any one who is really contented." An applicant came. 
" Are you really contented ? " " Yes." " Then what 
do you want my field for? " 

"We have false ideas of happiness. "What will make 
me happy — contented? "Oh, if I were rich, I 
should be happy!" A gentleman who was enjoying 
the hospitalities of the great millionnaire and king of 
finance, Rothschild, as he looked at the superb ap- 
pointments of the mansion, said to his host, "You 
must be a happy man." " Happy? " said he, " happy! 
I happy — happy ! Ay, hapjoy ! Let us change the 
subject." 

John Jacob Astor was told that he must be a very 
happy man, being so rich. " "Why," said he, " would 
you take care of my property for your board and 
clothes? That's all I get for it." 

I remember some years ago being very much 
amused at the idea of perfect happiness expressed by 
a young girl. On a very stormy night, the train be- 



BEEAD AND BUTTER. 189 

tween Syracuse and Utica was blocked by snow, and 
we were compelled to remain in the cars all night on 
the track. Of course, we were hungry, and the wel- 
come news was brought to the patient passengers that 
tea, bread and butter, ham and eggs, could be obtained 
at a house but a few rods distant from the cars. Off 
I started, in the driving snow, stumbling along as best 
I could, and found the house. The room, almost the 
only one in it, was crowded with eager seekers after 
food. I waited some time to get a chance, when I 
accosted a young girl — plump, rosy, and apparently 
very good-natured — as she was rushing around, all 
excitement. I said, " Will you please give me some 
bread and butter and tea to take to a lady in the 
cars? " 

" Oh, yes," said she, very volubly; " bread and but- 
ter! certainly. I'll give you some bread and butter. 
How much do you want; two or three slices? thick 
or thin? much butter or little? Certainly you shall 
have some bread and butter." 

" And tea," I said. 

"Ah, yes; tea. What have you got to put it in? 
You can't carry a cup and saucer and a handful of 
bread and butter through the snow. You'll fall down 
and spill the tea, I'll tell you w^hat I'll do. I've got 
a mug — it's a pretty mug. I'll lend it to you; but 
you must not break it, and you must bring it back." 

When she brought the refreshments, she said: 

" ^Now I'll fix you. Hold the bread and butter in 
one hand; now put your finger through the handle 
of the mug. There, you are all right; but bring back 
the mug!" 

" You have a great number of visitors at your house 
to-night? " 



190 HAvma a beau. 

"Yes," she replied; "more than I ever saw in this 
house in all my life." 

" You look very happy." 

" Yes," she said, her face beaming with brightness ; 
"it's perfectly delightful. I like company; it's splen- 
did. I'm just as happy as ever I can be. Why, do 
you know it's almost as good as having a beau? " 

I hope the young lady by this time knows by expe- 
rience what it is to realize something more than per- 
fect happiness. We sometimes hear the remark: 

" Oh ! if I could be elegant and accomplished and 
conspicuous, I should be happy." Few men have ever 
possessed greater advantages for the attainment and 
enjoyment of worldly pleasures, and no man drank 
deeper of the draught, than Lord Chesterfield. Hear 
him, at the last : " I have seen the silly rounds of 
business and of pleasure, and have done with them 
all. I have enjoyed all the pleasures of the world, 
and do not regret their loss. I appraise them at their 
real value, which is in truth very low. I have been 
behind the scenes. I have seen all the coarse pulleys 
and dirty ropes which exhibit and move the gaudy 
machines ; and I have seen and smelt the tallow can- 
dles which illuminated the whole decoration to the 
astonishment of the ignorant audience. When I re- 
flect on what I have seen, what I have heard, and 
what I have done, I can hardly persuade myself that 
all that frivolous hurry of bustle and pleasure of the 
world had any reality ; but I look upon all that is past 
as one of those romantic dreams which opium com- 
monly occasions, and I do by no means desire to 
repeat the nauseous dose for the sake of the fugitive 
dream. I think of nothing but killing time the best 
way I can, now that he has become my enemy." 



"if I WAS MAERIED." 191 

Yes, this killing of time is the most laborious of all 
work. 

Much of the happiness or misery of our lives de- 
pends on ourselves. I have known persons who 
would not permit themselves to be happy, who always 
look on the shadows of life. There is more light than 
shade ; yet some see gloom even in the sunshine — 
anticipating trouble, looking out for disaster — 
prophets of evil, they perceive the cloud in the 
brightest skies. 

Observe such an one ; he would throw a damper on 
a funeral. The face set in such a forlorn and doleful 
expression, you would imagine that no smile could 
ripple the hard surface, or relax the muscles, so rigid 
in the cast of utter misery. If the sun shines on a 
bright morning: "Ah, it won't last long! there's a 
mackerel sky." They are almost vexed at the moon 
in its beauty, " because," as the Irishman complained, 
" it only shines on bright nights when we don't want 
it; if it would but give light when it is needed, it 
would be worth while." They make themselves mis- 
erable by the most absurd anticipations of what may 
come; like the servant-girl, who had never even re- 
ceived an offer of marriage, sitting on the curb of the 
cistern, crying bitterly. 

"What is the matter?" 

"Oh, dear! I was thinking that if I was married, 
and my baby should fall in the cistern and be drowned, 
how dreadfully I should feel." 

Yes, and such persons do feel dreadfully in antici- 
pation of what they should feel if — thus borrow- 
ing trouble. "Why, man, wake up ! Come out of the 
dreary atmosphere of ifs. Look about you. Have 
you no blessings? As the poor slave did, "reckon 



192 A CONTENTED MAN. 

up your marcies." Are you in pain? 'No. Are you 
pinched and poor? No. Have your enemies tri- 
umphed oyer you? No. Then what is the matter? 
Rouse yourself from this chronic state of self-imposed 
misery — it does not pay. You are cheating yourself; 
you are drawing poison, like the spider, from the very 
flowers. Cheer up, man! and, like the bee, suck 
honey. 

" How dismal you look ! " said a bucket to his com- 
panion, as they were going to the well. 

" Ah ! " replied the other, " I was reflecting on the 
uselessness of our being filled, for let us go away ever 
so full, we always come back empty." 

" Dear me ! how strange to look at it in that way," 
said the bucket. "Now I enjoy the thought that 
however emjjty we come, we always go away fulL 
Only look at it in that light, and you will be as cheer- 
ful as I am." 

An old colored woman, over a hundred years of age, 
said in answer to the inquiry, " Are you thankful for 
your pains?" '^ Yes, missus, I'se thankful for ebery 
ting as it comes I'se obleeged to ye." 

Sir John Sinclair once alighted from his chariot 
near a singularly abject-looking hovel, and entered 
into conversation with an old laborer who lived there 
alone. On leaving, he asked if he could serve him in 
any way. 

" Sir," said the old man, with a look of honest con- 
tentment, "there is not in this world a thing that I 
want." 

Sir John often said that poor abode was the only 
home in which he had found perfect happiness, and 
requested his daughter to draw him a picture of that 
one- windowed hut where lived a man who had not a 



MONEY-GETTING. 193 

wish ungratified. When Sir John wished the great 
Lord Melville on his birthday many happy years, the 
minister of state replied, " They must be happier than 
the last, for I have not had one happy day in it." 

When blessings come like " birds to the windows 
of your soul, singing their joyous notes and seeking 
a responsive melody in your own heart, why put shut- 
ters on the windows, why draw down the blinds and 
miss the sweet warbling and the cgmfort through 
your own perverseness? Tear down the blinds, let 
the flood of sunshine pour into your heart; throw 
wide open the shutters ; let the music float in ; " take 
a cheerful view of life; come out of the gloom of 
your morbid apprehensions — it will pay, and you 
will look from the heights into the dreary cell of your 
miserable fancies, as men look into the dark dungeon 
from which they have escaped. 

Many men destroy the happiness of their lives by 
the absorbing passion for money-getting. It is not 
an unworthy ambition to get rich, to accumulate prop- 
erty; but the real gain depends on liow you get it, 
and how you use it. While money may be a blessing 
to the possessor, and through him a blessing to the 
world, it may be and often is a curse to the owner, 
and through him a curse to the world. Ask the man 
who has stooped to mercantile dishonor and baseness, 
and who by successful villany and swindling has real- 
ized an envied fortune, "What have you gained? " 

"I have been shrewd, long-headed, smart. I am 
prosperous and a man of capital." 

Is that all? A philosopher has said, " Though a 
man without money is poor, a man with nothing but 
money is poorer." What has such a man but money? 
Every piece of plate on his sumptuous table may re- 



194 MAN OF CAPITAL. 

fleet the pinched face of a hungry creditor, and the 
music in his gorgeous entertainments be discordant 
with the cry of a defrauded orphan. When Sir Giles 
Overreach in Massinger's play of A New Way to Pay 
Old Debts attempts to draw his sword, he is driven 
to bay, and says: 

"Ha! I am feeble. Some undone widow sits upon my arm, 
And takes away the use of it ; and my sword, 
Glued to my scabbard, with wronged orphans' tears, 
Will not be drawn. Ha! What? Are these hangmen 
That come to bind my hands and then to drag me 
Before the judgment-seat? Now they are new shapes 
And do appear like furies with steel whips 
To scourge my ulcerous soul." 

"Yes, he is a man of capital; he owns houses, 
lands, stocks, and shares." Capital! "What is capi- 
tal? Character is capital; honor is capital. What 
capital has a man when integrity and honor are gone, 
bartered for a miserable mess of pottage? Capital! 
when everything noble is stranded as an outcast thing 
on the sands of dishonor. He must be judged by 
what he is, not by what he has. What has he? By 
heartless villany he has capital. What is he? Wretch- 
edly poor in all that constitutes true and noble manli- 
ness. Perish gold and estate, stocks and shares; but 
give me integrity and honor, and when I die let me 
leave the record of an upright life. 

Gold is a good thing in charitable fingers, but not 
when it becomes a golden calf for men's worship; 
then it does not pay. Paulding said, "Money has 
become our god, or rather our demon, and the belief 
seems to be fast gaining ground that to win a fortune 
and lose a soul is playing for a stake worthy of 
rational and immortal beings." 



USES or MONEY. 195 

The madness for money is among the strongest and 
lowest of the passions. How pitiful to see a man 
willing to work, fight, beg, starve, lie, cheat, shave 
and steal for money, only to hoard it, gloat over it, 
count it, and handle it! Miserable is the man, with 
all his glorious faculties, whose sole ambition is to 
get and hold money, and then worship it, — commune 
with it, think about it, plan to get more of it, content 
never to part with it, when it becomes the sovereign 
good, yes, the heaven of a human spirit! Such a 
man might almost travesty the language of devotion, 
and, making gold his god, say of it what the Psalmist 
said, in his lofty aspirations after the highest good, 
"Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is 
none on earth I desire above thee," — to prize it, not 
for its uses, but for itself; — such a man, w4th untold 
wealth, is poor indeed. 

A miser has been known to die in the dark, to save 
the expense of a candle. One poor wretch consoled 
himself, on his death-bed, at a crafty bargain he had 
made concerning his funeral, with an undertaker who 
had married his only child. The history of misers is 
but a record of wretched creatures w^ho have sub- 
mitted to inflictions, sufferings, and life toils, to hoard 
and worship money. 

Eightly used, money is a great blessing. It is the 
procurer of comforts and luxuries, as well as the 
necessaries of life; gives us admission to many of the 
pleasant places of God's earth, to much that is rare, 
curious, and enchanting in nature and art; and to 
lack money is a misfortune. Yet the heaviest ills 
that befall us money cannot cure : it cannot ministe]; 
to a mind diseased; it cannot purchase health, or hin- 
der the progress of decay; it cannot restore youth, or 



196 QUEER HAPPII!TESS. 

buy back fair fame to the dishonored; it cannot re- 
store to the bereaved the loved ones that are gone, 
nor cure the many ills so fatal to a man's welfare. 
Gold may buy a wife, but cannot purchase love; it 
may gain civility, but not respect; it may introduce 
to society, but cannot procure friendship; it may ob- 
tain servility, but not esteem; it may buy position 
and sumptuous living, but cannot purchase happiness, 
— that is a home-made article; it no more consists in 
the accumulation of wealth than in snuffing up the 
east wind. 

A millionnaire, upon being asked what was the hap- 
piest period of his life, promptly said, " When I was 
working on a farm at twelve dollars a month." 

Some men have queer ideas of happiness. A cap- 
tain of a man-of-war said, "I have left my ship's 
company the happiest fellows in the world: I've just 
flogged one half of them, and they are glad it's over, 
and the others are glad they did not get it." 

John Wilson, after fishing in a loch in Selkirkshire, 
nearly all day, without a nibble, watched all the time 
by a shepherd and his dog, was turning despondently 
away, when the shepherd said : 

" Ye'll no hae killed mony trout? " 

"No; I've had no sport at all, — not a nibble." 

" I dare say no ; for it's weel kent there was never 
a trout in that loch since the beginning of crea- 
tion." 

A man who seeks happiness in mere money is fish- 
ing where there has been no fish since the creation of 
the world. 

A poor man laughs oftener than a rich man. There 
is more merriment in the homes of the poor than is 
generally found in those of the rich; for with the 



STOP THAT l^OISE. 197 

deep-seated and raiiHing anxiety, the wearying solici- 
tude that often accompanies wealth, pressing on his 
inmost soul, a man cannot be happy. The griping 
screw, whose god is Mammon, fattens on the misery 
of others, as the vulture on carrion; stalks up and 
down like a commercial buzzard, tearing away the 
substance of his victim. Can he be happy? Why, 
the workings of his mercenary soul tell on his very 
features; his extortion and usury harden his heart, 
stain his soul, and diminish his happiness by lowering 
the standard of self-respect. How mean men grow 
by this love of money ! 

" I've been a member of this church twenty years, 
and it has only cost me twenty-iive cents ! " said a 
man in a social meeting; when the minister said: 

" The Lord have mercy on your poor little stingy 
soul!" 

I heard of one very noisy in prayer-meetings, and 
who on one occasion, by his shouting "Amen!" and 
the like, disturbed the meeting so much that the leader 
requested a brother to try and stop that noise. In a 
moment the exclamations ceased. 

" How did you succeed so quickly? " 

" Oh, I just asked him for a dollar for foreign mis- 
sions, and that stopped him." 

Poor Lord Braco, rich in gold and silver, but poor 
in all that constitutes true manliness, once picked up 
a farthing. A beggar passing, asked his lordship to 
give it to him, as it was so small a coin. The pos- 
sessor of thousands of pounds sterling said, as he 
carefully buttoned up his pocket, "Find a farthing 
for yourself, you poor body! " 

A story is related of a certain celebrity, who inquir- 
ing the price of hats, the storekeeper presented him 



198 BUEDEN or DEBT. 

with a valuable beaver, and asked his acceptance 
of it. 

"Ah, thank you, — thank you very much. How 
much should you ask for this hat?" 

" Eight dollars." 

"And you give it to me ? Almost too good for me 
to wear. "What's the price of this one? " 

^' Oh, that's not a good hat. Only three dollars." 

"And you say you give me tliisf^^ 

" Yes, if you will accept it." 

" "Well now, suppose I take the three-dollar hat, 
and you give me the five dollars, if it will be all the 
same to you," — which was actually done ! 

A gentleman once asked why a certain person did 
not pull out the beam from his own eye. Foote re- 
plied, " So he would, if he could sell the timber." 

There are very few things in this world that will 
destroy or mar a man's happiness more than the con- 
sciousness of debt; very few things are heavier than 
its burden. What an awful incubus is the dread of 
duns ; to be afraid, in walking the streets, of meeting 
a creditor ; to avoid one store after another, till nearly 
all are closed to you ; to dread the arrival of the mail, 
fearing a reminder of debt; to sneak about, with 
furtive glances on either side! How the blood will 
tingle at the curt question, " When will it be conven- 
ient for you to settle that little bill?" It is always 
a little bill, though it might take all you are worth to 
pay it. Oh, the misery of being dunned! Men have 
been driven almost mad by it, — I speak of sensitive 
men, — and most men are ashamed of it. 

An eccentric clergyman obtained an enormous col- 
lection by requesting that no one should contribute or 
put anything on the plate who was in debt; so every 



UNWORTHY ambitio:n". 199 

one contributed. But there is hardly any course that 
will toughen a man in meanness more than the per- 
sistent running in debt. Some men are constantly 
planning to deceive a creditor; they will lie unblush- 
ingly ; make promises with no intention of performing. 
!N"o genius can redeem a man from the unutterable 
meanness of reckless debt. While we may be amused 
at the wit in dodging a creditor, we are shocked at 
the heartlessness of the swindler. If one steals a 
penny, he is a thief; but is he not a thief who will 
" do " a creditor, shirk payment of an honest bill, or 
act the part of a mean trickster? " There goes a 
sculptor." "What do you mean?" "Only that he 
chisels tailors, bootmakers, and all who trust him." 

How can a man strut about in unpaid-for garments, 
and ride in unpaid-for carriages, and gather his friends 
to admire unpaid-for furniture, or eat and drink at 
another's expense, without an inward sense of per- 
sonal degradation? It does degrade a man, so that 
you can almost detect a shirking debtor. 

In these days, a laborer on two dollars a day must 
dress like the mechanic on four or five. The me- 
chanic must dress like the tradesman with an income of 
$5,000 a year. The tradesman must live like the mer- 
chant with his $20,000; and the merchant must out- 
strip his richer neighbor in equipages, furniture, and 
entertainments; thus is the demon of debt invoked, 
and so it goes on. Churches become ambitious of 
rivalling or excelling their neighbors in superb archi- 
tecture and gorgeous decorations, till, involved in 
debt, their energies are paralyzed, the minister crip- 
pled by the heavy outside load, the benevolences cur- 
tailed, and the strength and power which, exercised 
for God and humanity, might and would advance the 
13 



200 MORAL HEROISM. 

best interests of the church, and the salvation of men, 
are expended in devising ways and raising means to 
lift the indebtedness incurred in mere display. Only 
under certain circumstances does it pay for individ- 
uals, societies, churches, communities, or nations to 
incur the heavy load of debt. 

The noblest work in which a human being can be 
engaged is for others; for all true heroism is the 
sacrifice of self for the good of others. It has noth- 
ing to do with mere abilities. "We do not speak of 
heroic talent, heroic genius, heroic intellectuality ; but 
heroic daring, heroic sacrifice, heroic endurance. 

There is a daring that is far from heroic. Blondin 
was daring, but no hero; Sam Patch was daring, but 
died like a fool, and was no hero. If capable of great 
deeds, a man lives for himself, all he leaves is a spec- 
tacle to wonder at, and not a benefit to enjoy. Some 
of the greatest instances of moral heroism in which 
the soul of man has asserted its Divine origin, may 
never be known on earth. The influence has been 
felt in the defeat of some legion of Satan's army, 
some array of deadly vices or phalanx of wild pas- 
sions; but the brave hearts which wrought the vic- 
tory may never be known till they are called forward 
to receive their crowns. How many real heroes pass 
by unnoticed — modest, qui^t, unattractive, and unas- 
suming; the gay avoid them, and pass them by with 
a sneer. Only those who know them fully, honor and 
love them. They would not particularly grace a 
drawing-room; the thoughtless throng heeds them 
not; to them they seem stained, marred. Why, my 
fine gentleman, these marks and stains are honorable 
scars, obtained in many a well-fought battle. They 
have entered the conflict of life with brave, true 



GLORIOUS VICTORIES. 201 

hearts, and will be at last ranked among those who 
"have overcome." 

There are no victories more glorious than those 
which are gained over self, those in which a strug- 
gling soul becomes purified and ennobled by sacrifice 
and sufiering for the good of others. Ah, sir! "you 
may live in obscurity, and fight your battles noise- 
lessly;^ no historian may record your name; no monu- 
ment be erected to your memory; you may bear the 
look of scorn and contempt, the world's sneers " — 
what of all that? A time is coming when the " intel- 
ligent universe will adjudicate aright; " when the man 
who masters an evil passion, battles a popular vice, 
fights a ruinous error, will be deemed worthy of 
higher praise than earth's greatest warrior. " The 
marble monument will crumble into dust; the very 
earth reel to and fro beneath the tread of the coming 
Judge; all the roll of historic records be consumed 
in the final conflagration; but the memory of the 
moral hero will be imperishable." 

He will live in the grateful memory of those whom 
he has blessed, whose tears he has wiped away, whose 
wants he has relieved, whose gloom he has dispelled, 
and whose wandering feet he has brought into the 
paths of peace. There, yes, " there shall his memorial 
be reared, where the flames cannot reach, and where 
the rocking of earth's last convulsions shall not be 
felt." 



CHAPTEK XV. 



KNOWLEDGE ANT> CURIOSITY. — ABSUED BLUNDERS 
AND LAUGHABLE MISTAKES. • 



What is Knowledge? — Ignorance with a Library — Wisdom is applied 
Knowledge — George Crnikshank the Simon Pure — Blunders in 
Spelling — "Preshus Sole" — Laughable Mistakes — The Deacon 
who thought he could preach — Anecdote of Robert Hall — Self- 
knowledge and Physical Health — Knowing Others — "Brass" no 
Test of Character — Misjudging Others — Knowledge through His- 
tory — Goodness — Mental Cultivation and Moral Corruption — In- 
quisitiveness — " Funnels of Conversation " — How a Man lost his 
Leg — Anecdote of John Randolph — Misapplied Labor — Dinner 
and Duel — How to collect a Crowd — Van Amburg's Lion — Feats 
of Legerdemain — Sir Charles Napier and the Indian Juggler — Ig- 
norance and Superstition — Whimsical Vagaries — Senseless *' Omens " 
— Sowing for the Harvest — Immortality revealed — De Quincey 
upon the Present — Faith a Necessity — The Story of Poor Joe. 



^^^ A'N is so constituted that in acquir- 
ing new truths, in the pursuit of 
learning or the search for knowl- 
edge, he finds enjoyment, a high 
degree of happiness. Sir Wm. Ham- 
ilton declares, with philosophic in- 
sight: "It is ever the contest that 
pleases us, not the victory. The hunter 
derives more pleasure in the chase than 
in the possession of the game." Malebranche de- 
clared: " If I held Truth captive in my hand, I should 
open my hand and let it fly, in order that I might 
again pursue and capture it." Lessing wrote: "Did 

202 




WISDOM ANJy KNOWLEUOE. 203 

the Almighty, holding in his right hand truth, and 
in his left search after truth, deign to tender me the 
one I might prefer, in all humility, and without hesi- 
tation, I should request search after truth." 

" Truth," says Von Muller, " is the property of 
God; the pursuit of truth is what belongs to men." 
Jean Paul Richter says : " It is not the goal, but the 
course which makes us happy." 

What is knowledge? is an important and yet diffi- 
cult question to answer. It is not simply to gather 
information, or to furnish ourselves with certain facts. 
It is well to know all we can that is useful, and right 
to avail ourselves of other men's labors and investiga- 
tion. God has given to a comparative few favored 
ones the intellect and ability to discover truths ; there- 
fore it is lawful to gain, from the toils of others, gen- 
eral information and knowledge. 

Men seldom become proficient or eminent in any 
one branch of science without personal investigation 
and thought. He who would be an astronomer, a 
natural historian, a geologist, a chemist, must himself 
make researches. Then again, men may collect an 
enormous library of books, and even read them, with- 
out intelligent curiosity. You may teach one to re- 
peat their contents; still his real knowledge may be 
small. A parrot repeats wise words, but the bird is 
not a whit the wiser. "Wisdom is knowledge made 
our own and properly applied. Knowledge and wis- 
dom may have no connection. " Knowledge is proud 
that it has learned so much ; wisdom is humble that 
it knows no more." 

An old writer has declared: " 'Tis the property of 
all true knowledge to enlarge the soul by filling it, to 
enlarge without swelling it, to make it more capable 



204 ABSUED spelli:n"g. 

and earnest to know, the more it knows." He who 
has no ideas save those he borrows from other 
people may possess knowledge, but is not wise. It 
is possible for a man to learn, and not reason; to 
remember, but never think. Let no one depreciate 
true knowledge. Learn all you can, gain correct in- 
formation from every source. For the want of real 
wisdom men sometimes make whimsical blunders. 
Some years ago the relative merits of George aud 
Robert Cruikshank were contrasted in an English 
review, and George was spoken of as the real Simon 
Pure. A German editor begins his memoir of Cruik- 
shank by informing his readers that he is an artist 
whose real name is Simon Pure; and in the index 
we read : " Pure, Simon, — the real name of George 
Cruikshank." 

Very absurd blunders are made by the lack of a 
correct knowledge of orthography. I think the 
spelling-matches of some years since, that were so 
popular for a time, were very useful as well as enjoy- 
able. How the beauty of a sentence may be marred, 
or the force weakened, by incorrect spelling! A 
young man told me that he was constantly receiving 
letters from a friend who was very anxious about his 
spiritual welfare. " But," said he, " they do me no 
good, for I am sure to get to laughing over some 
incorrect or absurd spelling. He will write, ' I send 
you this letter, not to intrude my views on you, but 
in the interest of your preshus sole.' " I often re- 
ceive from secretaries of societies letters badly spelt, 
as well as from ministers, and men and women who 
ought to know better. One gentleman wrote that he 
was sorry to trouble me with another letter, and he 
hoped I would not consider him a " boar." 



"abscess fricasseed." 205 

Some persons, through ignorance of the meaning 
of certain words, make laughable mistakes. I have a 
letter from a gentleman who desires me to reply by 
my own hand, as he wishes to preserve the letter as a 
"momentum!" A lady writes: "My husband can- 
not drink liquor without impunity." We are much 
amused at the reported misuse of words by the colored 
people, — words that they do not understand. A 
gentleman told me of once going into a " colored 
church " very neatly frescoed, except behind the pul- 
pit; here the wall had been taken down to form a 
recess, and the plastering was left in a rough state* 
The minister wished to say, " Brethren, we shall have 
no more service here till we have raised by contribu- 
tion sufficient money to fresco this recess;" but he 
said, " Bredren, de gospel will not be dispensed with 
any mo' till we have took up a contradistribution 
enuff to have dis yer abscess fricasseed ! " 

A very important branch of knowledge is self- 
knowledge. "Know thyself" is a maxim too deep 
for men in general. Men may toil through the in- 
tricacies of complicated systems, and know all about 
the characters of ancient heroes, and know but little 
of their own. But every man of common capacity 
may attain to this knowledge, if he will. He alone 
may follow the " autobiography of his heart," and see, 
as in a book, the indelible record of his life. What 
is my chief weakness? What is my predominant 
propensity? What gives me the highest delight? 
What are my prejudices against persons and things? 
What is my temper? What are my motives? What 
are my views of life? What is my faith? How few 
can answer these questions ! yet every one who sets 
himself honestly to self-examination can answer; but 



206 EPISTLE OE THE APOSTLE. 

men in general do not want to know. Some of us 
would be frightened if we searchingly asked ourselves 
these questions. 

A man would be'come an awful fact to himself by 
thorough self-examination. A young man once said 
to me: 

" I do not think I am a sinner." 

I asked him if he would be willing his mother or 
sister should know all he had done, or said, or 
thought, — all his motives and all his desires. After 
a moment he said: 

"No, indeed, I should not like to have them know; 
no, not for the world." 

" Then can you dare to say, in the presence of a holy 
God, who knows every thought of your heart, ' I do 
not commit sin ' ? " 

A knowledge of his characteristic weakness may 
help a man in his conduct through life ; for, if guarded 
against, it will become his strength. It is this want 
of self-knowledge that leads men often into absurd 
positions; like the deacon, who thought he could 
preach, and teased the minister to let him try. He 
went through the preliminary exercises very comfort- 
ably, then took his text from one of the Epistles, and 
began : 

"These words were written by Paul the apostle. 
They were written to the church to whom they were 
addressed. Paul, the apostle — was an apostle — 
to the Epistle of the Gentiles — that is — the words 
of the Epistle of the apostle Paul were words 
— that if you read, you will be impressed with 
their importance. I have chosen for my text these 
words of Paul — who — when — in this apostle of 
the Epistles — hem — hem. If anybody in this con- 



SELE-E3^0WLEDGE. 207 

gregation thinks he can preach, let him come np here 
and try it, for I can't." 

A young man who had annoyed Eobert Hall for 
permission to preach, afterwards received a severe 
rebuke upon asking Mr. Hall what he thought of his 
sermon. Wearied by his pertinacity, Mr. Hall at 
length told him that the sermon had done him a great 
deal of good. 

" Ah, I am dehghted to think I could have said 
anything to benefit you, "What particular part af- 
fected you most pleasantly?" 

" Oh, all of it." 

"Ah, indeed; in what way?" 

" Why, last week I heard Dr. Mason preach, and I 
thought I could never preach again; but after hear- 
mg you, I think I can." 

One important advantage of self-knowledge is, that 
when a man fully realizes what he is as a man, his 
wonderful and delicate organization, the complicated 
and yet harmonious arrangement of his system, even 
physiologically considered, he will more carefully 
avoid all self-abuse by the indulgence of appetite or 
passion. The knowledge that alcoholic drink is a 
poison, disorders digestion, inflames the mucous mem- 
brane, taints the springs of life at their source, im- 
poverishes and depraves the blood, and deranges 
almost every function of his body, so " fearfully and 
wonderfully made," should suffice to induce every 
man to abstain ; but when the realization comes that 
he is a man, with soul, mind, spirit, that his body may 
be the temple of the Holy Ghost, will he fill himself 
with all pollution and defilement, and make himself a 
child of hell, who might be an heir of heaven? 

Another important branch of knowledge is to know 



208 KN"OWLEDGE OF OTHERS. 

others; and this is more difficult, and yet the desire 
for it is universal. Some men are so open and trans- 
parent, they seem to carry their hearts in their hands ; 
while others are reticent and reserved. How little we 
really know even of the most intimate friend who 
walks by our side, and with whom we are in commu- 
nion ! How often we misjudge men — mistake them ! 
I know of a man who exclaimed, on being told that a 
friend of his belonged to the church, " Why, I have 
known him intimately for some years, but I never 
dreamed he was a Christian." Again you may say 
of another, " he has not a vice," when it is possible 
his whole composition is thoroughly vicious. 

Bring two really honest men together, and each 
misjudging the other through difference in temper 
and manner, may prevent a recognition of their hon- 
esty; but bring two men together, both unprincipled, 
perverted, and bad, and they will recognize each other 
by instant sympathy. Men who pretend to be judges 
of character are often deceived. We should not 
always trust to appearances. " Oh, I do not like his 
looks," is an expression often heard at first sight of a 
man. 

I heard a gentleman once say, " I never trust a man 
who cannot look me right in the eye." That is not a 
correct basis for judgment upon one's character. 
There are some timid, diffident souls, who are easily 
looked out of countenance, who cannot meet the stern 
eye of a person who is trying them by their brass. 
The very worst criminals can stare you out of coun- 
tenance; and it is no criterion that the man who can 
outstare you is the virtuous, truthful man, and the 
diffident person whose eyes droop before your staring 
gaze is the vicious and untruthful one. I believe we 



HIDDEN NOBLENESS. 209 

may sometimes judge a man more correctly by his 
looks than by his words or actions, for professions 
may be false, but the face is generally true ; and yet 
he may not be able to endure stolidly an inquiring 
stare. Some faces are so unmistakably rascally, it 
needs no great penetration to decide the character. 
It might be said of them, as was said to an individual 
who complained "I don't feel myself to-day," "I 
heartily wish you joy, for you must certainly be the 
gainer by the change." 

We are apt to misjudge others, and distrust them. 
The world is bad enough, but we imagine men worse 
than they are. Take an audience anywhere, and com- 
posed as you will, and deliver to them a speech fall 
of sordid, base, mean sentiments, and you will be 
hissed; but utter sentiments honest, lofty, chivalric, 
noble, and applause will follow. We find that, how- 
ever men may live, there is an inherent sympathy 
with what is noble. Many there are who walk through 
life utterly unknown and unappreciated by their fel- 
lows, — "fine, sensitive natures, that encase themselves 
in a second or outer life, unseemly, having no 
beauty that they should be desired, and who will 
never be known for what they are by those who look 
only upon the outside. They live on, unprized, un- 
cared for, until some one, skilled in the knowledge of 
other men, discerns beneath the surface the real na- 
ture of the man, and sees, hidden from other eyes, 
God's glorious handiwork." I believe there are many 
such walking side by side with us in the world, men 
of whom we are not worthy, whose real beauty and 
grandeur will never be fully known till, in eternity, 
God uncovers His own image, and bids us see them 
as they are. 



210 OH, IT IS geand! 

There is a noble development of this desire for 
knowledge when a man possesses the power to bring 
before him in a living panorama the grand lessons of 
history, — mingling with the generations that are gone, 
his heart glowing at the " songs of bards two thou- 
sand years old," his nerves thrilling at the eloquence 
of men who can never die, his spirit kindling with 
" thoughts that have passed from soul to soul since 
souls have been," sympathizing in the struggles of 
nations battling to be free, joining them in their wel- 
come to the light. He weeps at their griefs, rejoices 
when they are glad; his heart is affected by the 
" mighty utterances of humanity through the ages." 
He trembles in agony to behold nations losing their 
way, and groping in the darkness of despotism. He 
takes a part in all the progress of the race as knowl- 
edge opens to him a glorious world, and he " holds 
converse with the mighty dead ; " or, " studying the 
heavens on the shore of that limitless ocean, he sounds 
the depths of the ether, gauges the visible universe, 
counts the myriads of stars that people it, measures 
their distances, unravels their most complicated move- 
ments, reveals their dimensions, evolves order from 
apparent confusion." Oh, it is grand! The crown 
of knowledge is brighter than a monarch's diadem; 
and yet a man with such a glorious heritage may not 
be one whit more moral, religious, or, in the highest 
sense, more useful. Why, knowledge itself, unless 
wisely directed, will even make a bad man more dan- 
gerous. 

Knowledge, unless allied with goodness and wis- 
dom and embodied in upright character, is naught. 
It is not how much a man may know; but the end 
and purpose for which he obtains knowledge is of the 



OBJECT OF KNOWLEDGE. 211 

greatest importance. The great object must be to 
improve character, to make it better, more useful, 
benevolent, energetic and efficient in the attainment 
of high purposes. " One may be able to interpret the 
eloquence of nature, and look out among the stars 
with a feeling of exultation at the glories of the 
heavens; yet if he scrutinizes the universe with self 
only before his eyes, he lies buried in the earth alone 
with all his burning thoughts. But when in devout- 
ness of spirit he gazes into the heavens, he himself 
becomes as nothing, as an atom of dust on the out- 
skirts of a glory immeasurable." He perceives in 
everything the Presence that fills immensity, and 
crowds it with proofs of His power and wisdom. 
Then the Author of this beauty and majesty becomes 
the object of his desires, while in his self-abasement 
he exclaims, " What is man, that Thou art mindful of 
him ! " and learns to trust Him in His faithfulness to 
all eternity, and finds that " the fear of the Lord is 
the beginning of wisdom." " The pillar of cloud and 
of fire which led the Israelites to safety drew the 
Egyptians to destruction. One saw the hand of God, 
the other but a phenomenon." 

All the worldly knowledge a man can acquire will 
not make him a good man, or prevent him from fall- 
ing into grievous sin. "We may find great mental 
cultivation combined with moral corruption. 

Knowledge is a trust, and brings with it a mighty 
responsibility. Few more awful sights are seen than 
a once cultivated intellect fallen, — a mind that has 
soared into the highest heaven of intellectual attain- 
ment, that has shone forth like the sun in his glory, 
and filled the world with its blessed beams, de- 
graded and debased, — a mind that might have been 



212 what's the news? 

like a Samson among its fellows, shorn of its strength, 
and only brought forth at times to make sport for the 
Philistines; like the eagle that might have risen to 
the firmament and drank of the fountain of divine 
light, fluttering, broken-winged and blinded, in the 
dust ; or, like the fallen angels, taking refuge in the 
Gradarene swine from the presence of Him in whom 
they ought to have delighted, — the divine spark fled 
from the human face, the soul gone, the beast every- 
where grovelling in the thing that had once been man. 
Hear him, with voice thick and husky, a cracked 
laugh, talking rubbish and ribaldry, and in the midst 
of balderdash gleaming now and then a gorgeous 
sentence that drivels away again into a cadence 
almost idiotic. It is one of the most awful sights of 
earth. 

The desire to know becomes paltry when it devel- 
ops into mere inquisitiveness. Some one has defined 
inquisitiveness as an " itch for prying into other peo- 
ple's afiairs, to the neglect of our own." The constant 
and genuine food of some minds is news. They seem 
to subsist entirely on this diet. " The news — what's 
the news? " Shakespeare says: 

"With open mouth, swallowing a tailor's news." 

"Ah, curiosity! the cause of all our ill; 
And yet the plague that most torments us still." 

Some men delight in asking questions about affairs 
that are often not worth knowing; silence is torture 
to them, and by continual application they become 
masters of all kinds of queer histories; they never 
miss anything for the want of asking. Such can tell 
you of all the weddings that are to come off, and 
when; of all the engagements that are broken off, 



FUNNELS OF CONVERSATION. 213 

and for what cause; whose property is mortgaged, 
and for how much; who borrows money, and for what; 
and who lends it, and on what terms. They know the 
amount of everybody's income; can inform you what 
their neighbors eat, drink, wear, say, or do ; when they 
sleep, walk, or ride ; they watch the post-man and the 
butcher ; know how many letters, and how much meat 
they have. They are fully acquainted with all domes- 
tic squabbles, and pride themselves on having the 
earliest information. To obtain this, they pass their 
time keeping a watchful eye upon others, gathering 
up chance remarks or inadvertent expressions, and 
weave them into a web of history, asking little inno- 
cent side questions, seemingly vague and unimpor- 
tant, and then deducing conclusions by no means so 
unimportant, until they become entangled and ensnared 
in the cobwebs of petty inquisitiveiiess. 

Such persons become the " funnels of conversation, 
taking in nothing for their own use, but merely to 
pass it to another. They are the channels through 
which all that is spoken of others is conveyed ; simply 
funnels." How amusing it is to see one of these in- 
quisitive persons with a mystery! How he ponders 
it, lies in wait for it, scents all around it, fixes on it 
with a bull-dog tenacity, follows it with a persistence 
worthy of a nobler object. He will concentrate on it 
all the force of his will, fancying himself on the verge 
of discovery; and after all this expenditure of time, 
energy, and patience, becomes possessed of a piece of 
news — fresh news — yes, fresh; but, like the manna, 
" food one day, stale and corrupt the next." 

We have no sympathy for these merely inquisitive 
ones in their disappointments, but rather laugh at 



214 "it was bit off." 

them. That is a good story of one conversing with 
a very quiet person who had lost his leg. 

" How did you lose it? When? "Where? " 

To all his questions, he received evasive replies, 
until the itch to know liow that leg was lost became 
so intolerable, and his persistence was so annoying, 
the gentleman said: 

" If you will promise me on your word and honor 
that you will not ask another question — not one — I 
will tell you how I lost my leg." 

a Agreed. Tell me." 

"ISTot another question?" 

" Not one more ; only tell me that." 

" Well, my friend, it was bit off ! " 

" Bit off ! Oh — ah — hum." 

I do not condemn utterly the asking of unimportant 
questions. Some men, for the sake of showing po- 
liteness or attention to a stranger, may border on the 
inquisitive, without being offensive, and may be very 
much hurt by a rude reception of the questioning. 

John Randolph stopped once at a hotel where the 
landlord tried very hard to converse with him, but 
without success. After he had paid his bill, and was 
starting, the landlord said: 

" Which way are you travelling, Mr. Randolph? " 

"Sir?" 

" I asked which way you was travelling? " 

" Have I paid my bill? " 

" Yes." 

" Do I owe you anything more? " 

" No." 

" Then I am going just where I please ; do you un- 
derstand?" 

"Oh, yes!" 



WHAT DID HE SAY? 215 

But when he had gone a little way, he came to a 
fork in the road, and sent his servant to ask the way. 
The landlord shouted out: 

"Mr. Randolph, you don't owe me one cent; take 
which way you choose ! " 

There is often labor expended in obtaining informa- 
tion that is not worth the time and toil. At a trial, a 
lady witness was being questioned, when she stated a 
fact : 

" He took me by the shoulders, and pushed me from 
the room." 

"What did he say?" 

" We do not want to know what he said," exclaimed 
the opposing lawyer. 

" Yes, we do," said the other. 

"What did he say?" 

"I object to the question; it is not admissible;" 
and at it they went, arguing the case till night. The 
court adjourned; and next day books were consulted 
and arguments advanced, the court determined to 
decide the point; and after some consultation, and ex- 
amining precedents, it was declared the question might 
be admitted. 

" Then what did he say? " ^ 

The court was in breathless attention and suspense 
while the important question was asked, " What did 
he say?" 

" ]N"othing at all." 

Curiosity to know little things — unimportant mat- 
ters — sometimes leads men into extravagance. An 
American and a Frenchman were taking a meal to- 
gether. The American ate so voraciously, that the 
Frenchman said: 
14 



216 "breakfast or dinnaire?" 

" Monsieur, s'il vous plait, is dat your breakfast or 
your dinnaire vat you eat? " 

'So reply. 

" Pardon, monsieur, vill you dell me, s'il yous plait, 
is dat your breakfast or your dinnaire yat you eat?" 

"Go to thunder!" 

" Why you tell me go to thunder for ask you one 
civil question? Ah, you are not gentleman! " 

A quarrel ensued; a challenge given and accepted; 
a duel fought; the American shot the Frenchman. 

" Oh, I am very much kill! Oh, I shall die ! Oh! 
ah!" 

" My dear fellow, I am very sorry. What can I do 
for you? " 

" Oh, monsieur, you can do great deal ! Oh, ah ! 
yill you tell me vas dat your breakfast or your din- 
naire vat you eat? " 

The developments of the elements of curiosity are 
almost illimitable. Some people seem to be possessed 
of a desire almost amounting to a passion to see rare 
things, or indeed anything bordering on the impos- 
sible. 

Advertise that some impossible feat is to be per- 
formed and you will draw a crowd. In London a 
notice appeared that in the course of an entertain- 
ment a man would jump into a quart bottle, and sing 
a comic song. The house was crowded, and because 
the feat was not performed, which they knew was 
impossible, they nearly destroyed the theatre. A 
talking-fish — a mermaid — a monstrosity, will draw 
crowds. A man went every night to see Yan Am- 
burgh put his head in the lion's mouth. When asked 
why he went every night, he said he knew to a moral 
certainty that the lion would bite that man's head off 



DIEPICULT FEAT. 217 

some time before he had done with him, and he wanted 
to see it! If there were a certainty that Blondin 
would fall from his tight rope, it would draw a larger 
crowd than otherwise. Our curiosity is excited by 
feats of legerdemain, or prestidigitation, and I must 
confess I should like to know how some of them are 
performed. 

There are many feats wonderful as well as very 
curious. When Sir Charles Napier was in India, 
a juggler visited camp, and among other performances 
cut in two with a stroke of his sword a lemon placed 
in the hand of his assistant. Napier doubted the feat 
and held out his hand for the experiment. The jug- 
gler looked attentively at the hand, and refused. 
Napier thought he had found him out and laughed 
at him. 

" Let me see your other hand," said the juggler. 
The hand was submitted, and the man said: 
" If you will hold it firmly I will perform the feat." 
" "Why the left hand and not the right? " 
"Because the right hand is hollow in the centre, 
and there is danger of cutting off the thumb; the left 
is higher, and there is less risk." 

Napier says if he had not laughed at him he should 
have refused, but putting the lemon on his hand he 
held out his arm. The juggler balanced himself, and 
with a swift stroke cut the lemon in two pieces. Na- 
pier said he felt the edge of the sword on his hand as 
if a cold thread had been drawn across it. 

The desire of knowing coming events is one of the 
strongest inclinations in the minds of many. I think 
it is Dr. Johnson who says, " The quality of looking 
into futurity seems the unavoidable condition of a 
being whose motions are gradual, and whose life is 



218 WHIMSICAL YAGAEEES. 

progressive." "We all are solicitous about events 
which lie hidden. The mind is not satisfied with 
objects immediately before it, but is always breaking 
away from the present, filled with conjectures about 
things not yet made real to us by outward existence, 
and longing to penetrate into futurity. To this cause 
is owing the success of astrologers, fortune-tellers, 
prognosticators, wise people, seers, spiritual mediums, 
biologists, and all pretenders to a knowledge of future 
events ; the consulting of oracles, the noting of signs, 
omens, lucky days, and all the various arts of super- 
stition. 

It is a fact that the superstitious are generally igno- 
rant. 'No head is a vacuum; some are circumscribed, 
some are capacious, and the more room is taken up 
with useful knowledge the less remains for credulity. 
" The more a man is acquainted with real things, the 
more willing he is to give up the ghost of things ; " yet 
after all, there is a vast amount of superstition among 
us. The vagaries of some are very whimsical, and 
would puzzle the antiquary to discover how they have 
originated. What nonsense in examining the grounds 
of a coffee-cup to learn of your future husband; put- 
ting bride-cake under the pillow to dream of him 
(you do not suppose any one believes such absurdi- 
ties! I cannot tell, but why do they do it? I hardly 
suppose that any young lady puts bride-cake under 
her pillow without a glimmering hope that she may in 
her dreams behold the coming man) ; throwing the 
apple-paring over the head that it may fall in the 
shape of the first letter of his name! How silly to 
stir the fire expecting to read in its bright flames the 
prophecy that you will have a bright husband ! 

Then note the multitudes of omens really believed 



VARIETIES OF ome:n"s. 219 

in by many ! If a hen crows it is a sign of bad luck. 
If a spark flies out from the fire a stranger is coming. 
If the cat turns her tail to the fire we are to have a 
hard frost; if she sneezes, all in the family will have 
colds. If you find a pin with the head turned to- 
wards you it is a sign of good luck. Spilling salt, or 
laying knives across each other are ill omens. I have 
known persons to be really annoyed at either of these 
occurrences. If the head itches it is a sign of rain; if 
the eyebrow itches you will see a stranger; if the right 
eye itches, you will cry; if the left, you will laugh; if 
your nose itches you will shake hands with a fool; if 
it is your right hand, you will pay money; if your left, 
you will receive it; if it is your back, butter will be 
cheap; if your side, somebody is wishing for you; if 
your knee, you will kneel in a strange church; and 
if it is your foot, you will tread on strange ground. 

These are, to be sure, vagaries and extravagances, 
but it is curiosity that leads to them, curiosity to know 
the future. What would you give to know whether 
your speculation will be successful, and your marriage 
happy ! Perhaps if I ask my reader the wish that is 
with you most prominent, you would tell me, "To 
know what is to come ; " yet you cannot. " Trace a 
rainbow from the ocean, through the clouds, and back 
again into the sea, and find it there, and then perhaps 
you may be able to foretell what will happen in the 
future." 

Our thoughts can have no influence on the future, 
but our acts will. "What folly to be so absorbed in 
the desire to know the future as to neglect the present, 
dreaming out life, or worrying it away in vain conjec- 
ture! Such men become unstable, always planning, 
never executing; always commencing, never com- 



220 SOWIN^a AND REAPING. 

pleting; always thinldng, never acting; always pro- 
posing, never performing; with life before them, and 
its objects, pleasures, duties; but duties never fulfilled, 
pleasures never tasted, objects never attained. In the 
beginning, life seems a vast conception ; at the end, 
an unsatisfactory, miserable failure. Such men float 
on the sea of life; they are boats without rudders, 
tossed by every wave of passion, caprice, or impulse; 
promising to do everything, doing nothing; within 
sight of the land of peace and comfort, but never 
touching its shores. 

We can make our own future, — we are making it 
every day. It is a solemn fact, that " whatsoever a 
man soweth, that shall he also reap." Sow corn, reap 
corn; sow weeds, reap weeds: sow the corruptible, 
reap the corruptible; sow the imperishable, reap the 
imperishable. 

The ruin of men is but the thickening of the har- 
vest of which they have sowed the seed. They reap 
the fruit of their own husbandry; the same grain the 
sower scatters, the reaper collects. If the husbandry 
of wickedness goes forward, there is a harvest of an- 
guish to be gathered. We reach the summit of all 
that is tremendous and awful in conception when we 
consider a man consigned to the tyranny of a passion 
never to be conquered, and never to be gratified. 
Milton puts these words into the mouth of Satan: 

" Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell." 

Sow envy, malice, revengefulness, covetousness, 
drunkenness, sensuality, and we must eat of the fruit 
of our way, and be filled with our own devices. What 
hell ever preached can surpass this ? 'No need of fire, 
or rack! Who can imagine the agony of such a poor, 



IMMOETALITY IS EEYEALED. 221 

torn, tossed creature, who has endowed every unholy 
passion with sovereignty, ploughed iniquity, and sown 
wickedness, only to reap the same. If we would 
make our future peaceful, let us sow righteousness, 
and reap life everlasting. " He that is unjust, let him 
be unjust still ; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy 
still ; and he that is holy, let him be holy still." 

But to know what shall be! — here curiosity is 
blocked, and we rest on faith. The future is known 
to God alone, and we can know no more than he has 
revealed, and that we receive by faith, — faith that 
amounts to certainty, — because He has said it. We 
believe in " a life which after myriads of ages will be 
still new, and still beginning." Immortality is re- 
vealed to us, and we receive it as an absolute .cer- 
tainty; but the character of that unending existence 
dei3ends upon ourselves, for God has said, " He who 
sows to the flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption; 
and he who sows to the spirit, shall of the spirit reap 
life everlasting." Our knowledge relates chiefly to 
the present, and what is that? We talk of the flight 
of time, but how limited is the space in which we can 
say " ]N"ow " ? We do not comprehend how small 
that space is. 

De Quincey, in one of his essays, presents this 
thought very vividly : " How narrow, how incalculably 
narrow, is the true and actual present ! Of that time 
which we call the present, how small a part but be- 
longs either to a past which has fled, or to a future 
which is still on the wing. It has perished, or it is 
not born. It was, or it is not. The true and very 
present in which only we live and enjoy, ofiers less 
capacity for our footing than the slenderest film that 
ever spider twisted from her womb. All is finite in 



222 POOR JOE. 

the present, and even that finite is infinite in its ve- 
locity of flight towards death." 

I quote the language of another writer : " All our 
ideas concerning a futurity of living, thinking, acting, 
are phantoms seen in the dark without revelation. 
There is nothing possible in the trackless future, but 
by faith. Faith is a necessity. By faith, we learn all 
things pertaining to the ways of the Almighty. By 
knowledge, we learn His works; by faith, we learn 
His ways in the life that now is, and that which is to 
come. Is not faith of more importance than knowl- 
edge? A man may know all mysteries, may under- 
stand all languages, may weigh the stars, may be 
profound in all sciences, filled with all the knowledge 
of the schools, yet as he stands on the confines of his 
life, with the consciousness of immortality, if he sees 
no star of hope to guide him, all is uncertainty and 
doubt. He stretches out his hand and grasps the 
darkness, his soul fluttering in the weakened body 
that fain would hold it, passes away into an eternity 
of which he knows nothing, and dreads everything. 
How poor he is ! how miserably poor ! " 

Another, whose faith in God is the governing and 
actuating power of his whole being, knowing nothing 
of the learning of the schools, may talk but stammer- 
ingly one language, yet standing on the verge of 
eternity can say, " I know whom I have believed. I 
shall be satisfied when I awake in thy likeness." How 
incomparably rich is he ! " 

Poor Joe could neither read nor write; he under- 
stood no doctrine but the one simple truth of the 
Gospel. Lying on his hard bed, he could say, " Joe 
only knows one thing: Jesus Christ came to save 
sinners. Joe is a sinner. Jesus Christ came to save 



"I AM JOE." 223 

him. Joe believe it, that's enough. Joe love Jesus 
Christ." 

Some years ago, in Allen Street Church, 'New York, 
I related the little history of Joe, as I heard my mother 
tell it; and a man, rather shabby, and with the evi- 
dent signs of dissipation, stood up in the audience, 
and cried out: "I am Joe, and I am a sinner; and if 
Jesus Christ came to save sinners, I want him to save 
me." 

Many Christian people that evening took him by 
the hand, and encouraged him. A long time after 
that, a man and his wife came to me. They were well 
dressed, and respectable. The man said, " Have you 
forgotten me? I'm Joe. Don't you remember, at 
Allen Street, Joe stood up, and said he was a sinner? 
Well, I am Joe, and this is my wife, and we are try- 
ing to serve Jesus Christ. I was a swearer and a 
drunkard, but now I am sober, and I love Jesus 
Christ; and I and my wife wanted to speak to you, 
and let you know that Joe meant what he said that 
night in Allen Street Church." 

I occasionally hear of Joe and his wife as a couple 
united in one purpose to serve the Lord Christ, and 
who have persuaded others to walk in the same 
path. 

Then give me faith, the ground of a settled hope, 
without knowledge, rather than all the learning of 
earth without faith; so that when the shadows of 
death fall on my eyelids, I may compose myself to 
sleep with the certainty of a coming morning, and a 
glory above the clouds, as undoubtedly as I close my 
weary eyes to sleep to-night with the assurance of a 
sunrise to-morrow. 

Then let me say especially to the young, in the 



224 WISDOM AOT) UNDEESTAXDINa. 

words of the wise man, " With all thy getting, get 
understanding. "Wisdom is the principal thing; there- 
fore, get wisdom; exalt her, and she shall promote 
thee; she shall bring thee to honor; she shall give to 
thine head an ornament of grace; a crown of glory 
shall she be to thee." Job tells us in his parable : " It 
cannot be gotten with gold; the topaz of Ethiopia 
shall not equal it; the price of it is above rubies; it 
shall not be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the 
precious onyx, or the sapphire. Whence, then, is wis- 
dom? God understandeth the way thereof. He know- 
eth the place thereof. When He made a decree for 
the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder, 
then did He see it, and declare it. He prepared it, and 
stretched it out." "And unto man He said, Behold the 
fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from 
evil, is understanding." 



CHAPTEE XVI. 



COMEDIES. 



THE HUMOEOUS SIDE OF LIFE. 



The Art of Putting Things — Illustrative Anecdotes — Macklin at the 
Theatre — The Smoker on a Coach — Mr. Parker's Preaching — Man- 
aging Others — The Scolding Schoolmaster — The Inhuman Teacher 
— Appeals to Honor better than Brutality — The Model Principal — 
The College President's Lecture on Spontaneous Combustion — The 
College President guarding his New Roost — The Midnight Ride — 
Acknowledgment of Errors — Bonnie Christie — Matter-of-fact Peo- 
ple — "Six-penny Caliker" — No Devils ever cast out of a Man — 
The Quaker's Answer — The Physician and the Stone Mason — A 
Digression, but not an Argument — Henderson the Actor — Differ- 
ence between Settling down and Settling up — Wit of Dr. Samuel 
Cox — The Conceited Count — Practical Jokes — My Sacramento Ac- 
quaintance. 

T'S not so much what he says, but how 
he says it." " It's not so much what he 
does, but how he does it," are remarks 
constantly heard. Some one has written 
an essay on the '' Art of Putting Things." 
How many quarrels might be .avoided, if 
we could learn the art of rebuking with 
courtesy and tact! Macklin, when a man 
stood before him and his friend at the 
theatre, completely shutting out all view of the stage, 
might have asked him to sit down, or with his cane 
struck him in the back, and probably given offence; 
but he simply said, " I beg your pardon, sir; but when 
you see or hear anything particularly interesting on 

225 




226 THE PIPE PUT OUT. 

the stage, will you please let us know, as we are en- 
tirely dependent on your kindness." That was suffi- 
cient. "With a smile, and an apology that could hardly 
have been extracted by rudeness, the gentleman took 
his seat. 

A man seated between two gentlemen on the out- 
side of a coach, was smoking incessantly, when one 
of the gentlemen, nearly strangled, said, " Please, sir, 
would you have any objection to smoke in that other 
gentleman's face a little while?" The pipe was im- 
mediately, and with perfect good-humor, put out. 

I was once visiting a lady, who told me that her 
son came home from church one Sunday, and said : 

"Mother, I do not like Mr. Parker's preaching; and 
I do not intend to hear him any more." 

To all her persuasions, — for she feared if he re- 
frained to go with her to church, he would go nowhere 
else, — his reply was, "I do not like his preaching; 
he does me no good; and I shall go somewhere 
else." 

Soon he dropped into the habit of staying away 
from church a whole or half a day; troubling her, 
because of the irregularity of his church attendance. 
One day, Edward met Mr. Parker in the street. 

"How do you do, Ed?" 

" How do you do, Mr. Parker? " 

"Been out of town lately, Ed?" 

" 'No, I've not been away." 

"Ah ! I've not seen you in church lately." 

" Why, do you know whether I come to church or 
not?" 

"Oh, yes; I have missed you for some Sundays 
past. Do you not go to church at all?" 

" IsTot much." 



"PAEKER IS A BRICK." 227 

"Why?" 

" Well, Mr. Parker, I do not like your preaching." 

" ^o more do I, Ed. You cannot have a poorer 
opinion than I have of my preaching; and if you can 
tell me how I can preach better, I shall be obliged to 
you. I do not blame you for not liking my preach- 
ing; I wish you could help me to preach better. I do 
not ask you to hear me; but do not stay away from 
church because you do not like me. Go and hear 

Mr. , he's a good preacher; or Dr. , he's a 

much better preacher than I am. Go and hear some- 
body; do not leave the church altogether. Good-bye, 
Ed, my dear fellow." 

He went home, and his first words upon coming 
into the house were: 

"Mother, Mr. Parker is a brick, and I'll go and 
hear him, like or no like, just as long as he and I stay 
in the city." And from that time he has been a 
regular attendant, and he and Mr. Parker are fast 
friends. 

How few possess the faculty of managing others ! 
How rare is the ability of ruling or controlling others ! 
Yet some possess that ability in a large degree. There 
have been teachers who, by too much governmental 
discipline, have embittered their scholars for life; 
while others, who have been the strictest disciplina- 
rians, have gained the love and respect of all whom 
they have taught. I have but little experience of 
schools, but remember one which I attended whose 
master — one of those uncertain men of whom you 
are never sure — ruled according to his feelings. If 
his breakfast disagreed with him, woe to the boys! 
If his wife had been cross, and perchance had scolded 
him, — and that was not seldom, for he was the meek- 



228 HOW WE HATED HIM I 

est of the meek at home, — then he would emphasize 
his troubles upon the boys. How we suffered when 
he had dyspepsia! Scarcely any in the school but 
hated him, and yet he was successful in teaching, 
after a fashion. His was one of those independent 
schools of fifty years ago in England, when the master 
was supported solely by the charge to each scholar. 

" Full well the busy whisper circling round 
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned," 

would apply most emphatically to nearly every morn- 
ing; 

" Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee 
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he," 

would not apply at all. "When he came into the 
school-room, every boy's head was bent to the desk 
after one glance at the dial of his face, which told the 
state of the thermometer. Suddenly a ruler would 
whirl through the air, aimed at some luckless boy; 
perhaps it hit him. 

" Robert, bring that ruler to me ! " 

The boy walked up to the desk. 

" Hold out your hand ! " 

And the palm soon tingled and was stung with 
half a dozen blows, as if fire had touched it. What 
for? Oh, that was a small matter: perhaps the boy's 
head was not posed to suit the master. I have stood 
on a bench with a heavy book in my hand, compelled 
to hold it at arm's length till the sweat of pain would 
stand in beads on my forehead, and every nerve, from 
the finger-tips to the hips and down to the very toes, 
was throbbing with pain; and that for a trifling mis- 
demeanor. Oh, how we hated him! There were 
such masters years ago; thank God, the race is ex- 
tinguished I 



"who made that noise?" 229 

A gentleman said to me, " I have the most ago- 
nizmg pain in my head almost constantly. I have 
many a sleepless night tossing with pain. "What is 
the cause? Schoolmaster. Yes, my schoolmaster 
would strike me on the head with his hand, and some- 
times with a heavy book, and the result is these ter- 
rible headaches ; and sometimes, when I am suffering 
so keenly, I almost curse the man that by his brutality 
has caused me so much suffering." 

I do not believe in coddling boys, or remitting all 
punishment, nor in relaxing the strict government; 
but I believe boys can be governed by appeals to their 
honor rather than by brutality; and if punishment is 
needed, let the infliction be in proportion to the 
offence. 

I was struck with the methods pursued in a large 
school, one of the best, for boys, in a neighboring 
State. The principal entertained me for a few days. 
There was no flogging, no spying, no talebearing. 
There was subordination and an easy compliance 
with rules. Every delinquent reported himself. It 
needed some patience and skill and persistence to 
bring the scholars to this point. For instance, if the 
principal was disturbed by a great noise in one of 
the dormitories occupied by a dozen or more boys, he 
would go up to the room at once, and probably all 
would be still, every boy in his bed, some feigning 
sleep. 

"Who made that noise? " 

No reply. 

"I ask, who made that noise?" 

No reply. 

The question was slowly repeated. 

No answer. 



230 HAYSTACK BUENT. 

"Young gentlemen, please dress yourselves, and 
come down to the recitation-room." 

"When they were gathered there, he would address 
them, telling them how mean it was that the guilty 
should permit the innocent to be punished for their 
fault; and dilating on the cowardice that would com- 
mit a fault and permit others to suffer the conse- 
quences, he would ask the young gentleman who 
originated the noise, or if there were more than one, 
to acknowledge it, and receive the punishment; that 
he should consider the whole class in disgrace until 
the culprit or culprits confessed. This experiment 
was generally successful, and he had but very little 
difficulty in ascertaining the cause of any breach of 
the rules. 

The loresident of a college, whom I Iniew as a dear 
friend for many years, possessed a wonderful faculty 
for governing and detecting a culprit. On one occa- 
sion a good-sized haystack was burnt, evidently set 
on fire. "Who did it? That was a mystery. Some 
one connected with the college, no doubt; but who? 
No remarks were made about it except those that 
were perfectly natural. A week or more after, the 
president announced that he would give an extra 
lecture on chemistry to the whole college of students. 
In the course of his lecture, the hall being crowded, 
he spoke of spontaneous combustion, and proceeded 
to explain scientifically the causes of spontaneous 
combustion; and with a glance of his keen eye flash- 
ing in every corner of the room, he alluded to the 
haystack as a very good instance of the effect of such 
a combination as he had described. In that one 
glance he detected the unconscious half-smile on one, 
and the almost imperceptible wink on another, and 



"i GUESS that'll do." 231 

the involuntary change of countenance, or the fur- 
tive look on a third; and quietly finishing his lect- 
ure, he requested certain gentlemen to come to him 
in his study; to find, on asking them on their honor, 
that his ingenious plan, aided by his keen perception, 
had brought him to the correct conclusions. 

Another story is told of a college president who 
suspected that some of the boys had planned to rob 
his hen-roost. IsTear the inclosure were two large 
apple-trees at the back of the house; so he quietly 
went out and waited till they came. Of the two, one 
ascended the tree, the other remained below. When 
they were ready to commence operations, the doctor 
made a slight noise, and the one beloAV started off 
with an exclamation of surprise. The one in the 
tree asked in a whisper: 

^^ What's the matter?" 

To which the doctor replied, also in a whisper: 

^^AlFs right." 

" Here, catch hold," said the upper one, handing 
down a rooster. " Here's old Prex." 

And, handing down a hen: 

" Here's Mrs. Prex." 

"And here," handing down a chicken, " here's Miss 
Prex. I guess that '11 do." 

The doctor quietly got over the fence with the 
fowls, and went to his house. 

The poor robber of the hen-roost descended to find 
his companion gone. What they said Avhen they met 
will probably never be known; but in the morning 
the two young gentlemen received a polite invitation 
to dine with the president, — an honor they could not 
very well decline. Possibly they were embarrassed 
when, seated at the table, they saw three fowls roasted 
15 



232 A KIGHT EIDE. 

for the dinner; and we can imagine their sensations 
when the doctor said: 

" ]S"oWj young gentlemen, will you have a piece of 
^ old Prex, Mrs. Prex, or Miss Prex '? " 

How the dinner passed off, and how the young 
delinquents got off, deponent sayeth not. On that 
theme history is dumb; but nothing more was heard 
of the escapade, the doctor thinking that the morti- 
fication was sufficient punishment. 

A very good story is told of the head of one of 
our celebrated institutions, who was the possessor of 
a very clumsy, old-fashioned vehicle, to which he was 
very partial, and which he constantly used in riding 
through the streets of the town to the disgust of most 
of the students. A plan was formed among some of 
the boys that on a certain night they would remove 
this offensive vehicle from the coach-house to a wood 
about half a mile from the college. Their intention 
was to run the carriage into the thickest of the woods 
and underbrush, and leave it there. But the princi- 
pal by some means learned or suspected their inten- 
tion. Accordingly, in the evening, he quietly went 
out to the coach-house, and, well wrapped up, crouched 
in a corner of the carriage, and waited. Soon the 
boys came, very stealthily, and, without looking into 
the vehicle, began their operations very quietly; and 
in whispers, and with many a "hush," and "take 
care," and "look out," they succeeded in getting it 
out of the house and yard, and into the road. 

There they were all right, but they were puzzled to 
find the thing so heavy to haul ; and amid grumblings 
and puffings and pantings, varied occasionally with 
a strong expression of disgust, they succeeded in 
reaching the woods, the principal listening to their 



A SHARP LESSON-. 233 

complaints and rather enjoying the situation. Hav- 
ing with some difficulty backed the carriage into the 
brush, they began to congratulate each other on the 
success of their manoeuvre. The old gentleman, let- 
ting down the window, to their utter surprise and 
alarm, very quietly said: 

" ]Srow, young gentlemen, just take me back very 
carefully, if you please." 

It was rather a sharp lesson, but better than to dis- 
grace a set of young men for a comparatively harm- 
less joke. 

Sometimes it is very hard to learn how to acknowl- 
edge an error. There are those who cannot under- 
stand that there is something manly and worthy of 
their dignity in acknowledging a mistake, or owning 
their ignorance. 

When a lady asked Dr. Johnson how he came to 
commit a palpable blunder in his dictionary, he replied, 
"Ignorance, pure ignorance." 

For a schoolmaster, or one in authority, it seems 
specially hard to confess to an error, and yet such 
a confession often raises him in the estimation of his 
subordinates, and binds him to them with stronger 
cords of affection and respect. I once read some- 
where a very interesting narrative of such an experi- 
ence by school and schoolmaster, illustrating this and 
also the beauty and nobleness of character and truth. 

Two boys were in a schoolroom together, when 
some fireworks were suddenly exploded. When the 
master questioned them, one boy at once denied it; 
the other, Bonnie Christie, would neither admit, nor 
deny it, and without further questioning he was se- 
verely flogged. When the boys were alone again, he 
who had escaped, said: 



234 BONNIE CHRISTIE. 

" Bonnie, why did you not deny it? " 

" Because there were only we two in the room, and 
one of us must have hed." 

" Then why not say I did it? " 

" Because you said you did not, and I pity a liar, 
and will never tell of him." 

When school resumed, the boy marched up to the 
master's desk, and said: 

"Please, sir, I can't bear to be a liar; I let off the 
crackers," and then burst into tears. 

After a moment's pause the master, hand in hand 
with the culprit, before the whole school, walked down 
to where young Christie sat. 

" Bonnie Christie, lad," said the master, " he and I 
have come to beg your pardon; we were both to 
blame." 

The school was so hushed they might have heard 
Bonnie's big-boy tear-drojDs fall on his copy-book, as 
looking up with the tears on his cheek, — such tears 
as the severest flogging would never have forced 
from his eyes, he gently said, " Master, forever," and 
the glorious shout of the scholars made the rafters 
ring as the master's eyes grew dim with tears. 

A good-tempered retort often accomplishes more 
than a long argument, in defeating an adversary. It 
requires tact and self-possession, with a quick appre- 
hension to hold your own in an encounter of wit ; but 
on the dull and literal it is almost impossible to make 
any impression. In such a case the wit must be 
heavy and blunt, or an explanation would be required 
of you. I have met the obtuse and literal, and been 
amused at their utter inability to understand a joke; 
they take you as you say, not as you mean. ISTarrate 
to them some extravagant American story or jest; 



"sixpen:nt- caliker." 235 

tell them of a man running round in a circle so fast 
that he could see his own back, and they will begin to 
argue the point and discuss the possibility, or impos- 
sibihty, of such an operation. 

We often find among the common people in this 
country, especially in New England, a class with 
whom it would be dangerous to perpetrate a practical 
joke; and woe betide if they suspect you are fooling 
them or dealing by them unfairly. 

A lady told me that her brother, who kept a dry- 
goods store, was rather glib in his talk, and inclined 
to be somewhat flippant to his customers. An old 
woman came to his store and said: 

" I want to get some sixpenny caliker." 

" Sixpenny, marm ! Better not take a sixpenny 
calico; take a ninepenny. Sixpenny calico won't 
wash; a ninepenny calico will. A sixpenny calico is 
sleazy ; a ninepenny calico is firm. Take a ninepenny 
calico, and you'll be glad you didn't take a sixpenny; 
take a sixpenny, and you'll be sorry you didn't take a 
ninepenny. Let me measure you off the ninepenny; 
it is heavier, will last longer, is cheaper in the end. 
Don't take a sixpenny, when only threepence more 
will give you a dress worth double. What do you 
say, — a ninepenny? " 

The old woman stood perfectly still till he paused, 
and then said: 

"A sixpenny caliker is good enough for a poor 
worm like me." 

"Worm! worm, marm! don't call yourself a worm. 
I don't like to hear people call themselves worms. 
We are not worms ; we are men and women. Worms 
indeed! I'm not a worm; you're not a worm. I'll tell 



236 "they've got 'em yet." 

you what we are made of: water, gas, lime;" and he 
went on with other items. 

The old woman simply said: 

"Law! is that so? Then I reckon the biggest 
part of you is gas. 'Now I'll take ten yards of six- 
penny caliker." 

A bantering acquaintance of the other sex remarked 
to a woman: 

" I never heard of seven devils being cast out of a 
man." 

" Ko," was the reply; " they've got 'em yet." 

A Quaker, in giving evidence before a Board of 
Excise in England, and being rudely treated, was 
rather pompously asked: 

" Do you know what we sit here for?" 

" Yes : one of thee for a thousand pounds a year, 
and the other for seventeen hundred." 

A physician passing a stonemason's shop, bawled 
out: 

" Good-morning, Mr. D. Hard at work, I see. 
You finish your gravestones as far as 'In the memory 
of,' and then wait, I suppose, to see who wants a 
monument next? " 

"Waal, yes," replied the old man; "unless some- 
body's sick, and you're doctoring him, and then I 
keep right on." 

An architect was asked in a slighting tone : 

"You are a builder, are you not?" 

" No, sir; I am an architect." 

"Ah well, they are much the same, I believe." 

" I beg your pardon, sir; they are totally different." 

" Perhaps you can state wherein this great differ- 
ence consists." 

" Yes, su\ An architect is the mind; the builder 



"ticket, please." 237 

is the machine ; the architect is the power that puts 
the machine together and sets it going." 

" Very well ; perhaps you can inform me who was 
architect to the tower of Babel? " 

" There was no architect, sir, and hence the con- 
fusion." 

These are good; but rather the neatest I ever read 
was one by Henderson, the actor, who was seldom 
known to be in a passion. "When at Oxford he was 
once debating with a fellow-student, who, not keeping 
his temper, threw a glass of wine in the actor's face. 
Mr. Henderson took out his handkerchief, wiped his 
face, and coolly said, " That, sir, is a digression; now 
for the argument." 

A man whose business transactions had been rather 
suspicious, and who had passed through bankruptcy 
twice, was boasting: 

" I left business, and settled down with a comfort- 
able fortune," when a listener said: 

" If you had settled up, you wouldn't have had a 
cent." 

A very self-important young man came to the turn- 
stile at the railway station. 

" Ticket, please," said the porter. 

"Ah, my face is my ticket," was the reply. 

"All right," said the porter; "my orders are to 
punch every ticket before I let it pass." 

I once heard a very neat rebuke from Eev. Dr. 
Samuel Cox to a company of men, who understood 
it fully, and on whom anything keen or witty would 
have been lost. I was travelling on the Erie Eail- 
way. At Elmira three colored persons, mulattoes, 
took passage. They were very neat, genteel, quite 
good-looking, and well-behaved, — two women and a 



238 "well done, madam." 

man, who quietly took their seats near the door. 
Just before me sat four men, with their seat turned 
over. They were filthy and offensive, their language 
profane. They were drinking whisky and eating on- 
ions and cheese, leaving the odor of the car far from 
being agreeable; in fact, they were as repulsive as 
men could well be, and be permitted to remain in the 
car. There had been some audible grumbling at their 
coarse language. 

The train -boy came into the car with water, and 
asked one of these colored ladies if she wished some. 
She, with a smile, said, " Thank you," reaching out 
her hand to take the glass, when one of these dirty, 
blear-eyed, half-drunken creatures roared out, with an 
oath, " They're giving a d — d nigger water ! " The 
girl turned her face towards the wretch, and said, in 
a very sweet voice, " Perhaps this gentleman wants 
some water ; you had better pass it to him before you 
offer it to colored people." The deep pathos of her 
tone moved us all. Dr. Cox, who was sitting near 
me, and with whom I had been conversing, said, " That 
is well done, madam ; thank you ! " One of the men 
started up, and glaring at the doctor, said, " Old man, 
mind your business, or I'll take care of you." Dr. 
Cox said, in that clear, bell-like voice that so many 
remember, " Sir, if you would take care of yourself, 
and live as cleanly as I have all my life, — if you live 
to be as old as I am, you may be as good-looking an 
old man as I am." 

The contrast between the gray-haired, fresh-looking 
gentleman with the clear eye, the fine complexion, and 
the pure, sweet expression, and the bleared eye, the 
bloated face, the sensual mouth, the coarse skin of the 
brutal fellow who had dissolved his manliness in 



SMOEHl^G UN- THE CABS. 239 

drink, was so striking, that every one in the car 
seemed to be touched; and there followed a round of 
applause from hands and feet for a minute, to the 
utter discomfiture of the four ruffians, who were very 
quiet, and soon after left for the smoking-car. I 
thoroughly enjoyed this scene, as I always do the ex- 
tinguishment of the impudent and overbearing. 

It may sometimes be necessary to teach some men 
good manners by a little rougher treatment. On one 
occasion, while travelling, I saw a gentlemanly-look- 
ing man enter the car. I heard afterwards that he 
called himself " a Count," but he proved to be of very 
small account, — who illustrated the fact that looks 
are sometimes deceitful, and that a man may be very 
well dressed, and what the world calls genteel, and be 
but a slight remove from a blackguard. This person 
took a seat directly before a young lady, evidently 
travelling alone. After a while, he took out of a mo- 
rocco case a very beautifully-carved meerschaum pipe, 
then a small bag of tobacco. He filled the pipe, 
lighted it with a fusee, and opening the window, 
began to smoke. 

Soon the lady said, "I beg your pardon, but the 
open window drives the smoke in my face, and I do 
not like tobacco smoke ; " to which appeal he only re- 
plied by a shrug of the shoulders, and a long-drawn 
"Ah-h-h," and went on smoking. The lady again 
said, '' I assure you, sir, that the smoke is very annoy- 
ing to me; and gentlemen are not allowed to smoke 
in this car." The fellow said, in a drawhng tone, " If 
you don't like the smoke, you can take another seat, 
can't you?" A gentleman rose, reminding me very 
much of the late Judge McLean, and walking up to 
the smoker, said, very sternly, "Put that pipe out 



24:0 PRACTICAL JOKES. 

instantly." The reply was, "You mind your busi- 
ness." The gentleman said "I will; this is every 
gentleman's business," and suddenly snatched the pipe 
from the man's mouth, and threw it out of the open 
window, and then remarked, " You may resent that, 
if you please." Perhaps it would have been as well 
to call for the conductor, but by the applause that 
greeted him when he took his seat, the passengers 
evidently thought the punishment was just. The 
smoker seemed of less account than ever, and looked 
like a figure 9 with the tail cut off. 

I enjoy a joke, but practical jokes so called — 
though often exhibiting some ingenuity, and calling 
out our laughter at their absurdity — are one-sided, 
and the fun is generally for the perpetrator, and the 
misery and mortification for the victim. There is too 
often a vein of heartlessness, if not of cruelty, run- 
ning through the whole transaction, and the life-long 
sufferers from a practical joke are not a few. I like 
fun without malice or heartlessness; and a sharp and 
well-deserved lesson may be taught by a joke. A 
man, in spite, once chalked the word " scoundrel " on 
a neighbor's door. The next morning, the neighbor 
called. The man was out; so he left his compliments 
with the servant, stating that he had returned the 
call, as her master had left his .name at the door. 

"When in Sacramento, I met the man who, when a 
boy, was the cause of my losing a good situation by 
an attempt to retaliate on him a practical joke he had 
played on me. I was working at my bench, and a 
tub of paste was by my side with brushes in it for 
use, when he took one of these brushes, heavily loaded 
with paste, and holding it near my face, said, " John ! " 
I turned quickly, and got the paste on my face and in 



Ai^THTN^G BUT A JOKE. 24:1 

my hair. I was thoroughly vexed. He ran down the 
stands. I took a sheet of paper, and putting perhaps 
a pint of paste on it, and holding it on the palm of 
my hand, waited at the door till he should come. I 
determined to wait there all day, or until I should 
catch him, as I knew that he must come back, and by 
that door. So there I stood, biding my ojDportunity, 
when I heard him, as I thought, stealthily creeping up 
the stairs. "ISTow," I thought, "my boy, you shall 
have it," and braced myself for the deed. I was ex- 
cited at the thought of paying him in his own coin, 
when the door opened, and with all my might I dabbed 
the whole mass upon his face. Oh, horror! it was the 
boss of the shop ! N^ever shall I forget how he looked, 
or how I felt. The joke was anything but a joke, for 
in a short time I was dismissed from my employment. 
There I learned that practical jokes, especially in 
cases of mistaken identity, are often expensive. 



CHAPTER XYII. 



VICTIMS or BRIXK. — SCENES FROM LITE. 



Beer as a Beverage — Beer Drunkenness among Women — Great Brit- 
ain's Cnrse — "Doctored" Beer — The Inside of a London Gin-Palace 
— What is " All Sorts? " — Kinahan's L. L. — The Landlord — The 
Bar- Maid — The Customers — Life in the Bar-Room — Disgraceful 
Scenes — " Fair Play " — What the " London Times " says — A " Gen- 
teel" Gin-Palace — Rev. Wm. Arnot on the Liquor Traffic — The 
Fratricide — A Hardened Woman — The Gambler's Suicide — A Hor- 
rible Sight — Suicide of McConnell — The Blood-Stains on the Floor — 
The Meanest Man in the World — The Rumseller's Bargain — Result 
of the Trade — Dr. Guthrie's Testimony — That of Canon Farrar — 
"Fruits of the Traffic" — A Ghastly Story of the Prisoner at Dart- 
mouth — The Convict's Story — Rum and Murder — Remorse — Wait- 
ing for Death. 

HERE is in this country a growing 
tendency toward the commendation of 
beer as a beverage. This fallacy is 
built upon the misapprehension that 
drunkenness is caused altogether by 
spirituous liquors. The greatest harm 
from the use of beer is in its soporific 
effects, stupefying the drinker if he im- 
bibes largely; consequently, the consump- 
tion of beer is alarmingly on the increase. If this 
tendency caused a diminution in the consumption of 
spirituous liquors, we should be not so much troubled. 
It is an acknowledged fact that the drunkenness of 

242 




EVEBYBODY IS DRUNK. 243 

England is mainly produced by beer. It is a fallacy 
to say that if we can induce men to drink beer instead 
of spirits, there will be less intemperance. The Eng- 
lish Beer Act of 1830 was passed on this false theory, 
when it was received with almost universal acclamation. 
This measure was designed to supply what Lord 
Brougham called a " moral species of beverage," in- 
stead of immoral gin and rum, and was to prove an 
inestimable blessing to the British workingman, by 
giving him free access to this cheap and " wholesome " 
beverage. The express purpose of the act was to en- 
courage the consumption of beer, and discourage that 
of spirits. "What was the result? Sydney Smith has 
given the whole story in a nut-shell : " The new Beer 
Bill has began its operations. Everybody is drunk. 
Those who are not singing are sprawling. The sov- 
ereign people are in a beastly state." The scheme 
was a bitter disappointment to its friends. While the 
distillation of spirits has not decreased, beer-makers 
have become a power ; and I believe there is no single 
power in Great Britain which so influences British 
character, and so sways the material and moral des- 
tinies of the British people, as the influence that sits 
enthroned on the beer butts of the brewers. 

That " beer is the curse of Great Britain " is not 
my sentiment alone, but that of thousands who feel 
its truth in the growing demoralization of the people 
from its effects, and who are protesting against it. 
The drunkenness of England is something frightful. 
The first expression of surprise from an American or 
foreigner landing on the shores of Great Britain, is 
at the vast number of public-houses so well patron- 
ized, and at the proportion of women who frequent 



244 LONDON DRUm^ENOTESS. 

them."^ The subject is oyerwhelming. With my voice 
I can speak, but on paper words fail me. By day I 
have walked in the brilliant metropolis, and the key- 
note in every street was drink. At night alone, or in 
the viler quarters, accompanied by a detective, I have 
peered into the slums, and there beheld sights of orgy 
which compel me to believe that drunkenness in Eng- 
land among a section of the " lower classes " is more 
prevalent now than it was twenty years ago. I have 
stated the same impression in one of the London 
periodicals. This evident increase of intemperance, 
I believe, has startled a multitude of conscientious 
men and women to action in this matter; and I trust 
in God that the results of the uprising of the Chris- 
tian philanthropists against this monstrous evil will 
be as successful as the uprising of the N^orth was 
against the twin curse to the world — Slavery. 

Beer was to be introduced as a substitute for gin, 
but has become only an additional article for intoxi- 
cation, demonstrating that the use of beer leads on 
to spirits. There are some who say that lager beer 
is not intoxicating. I heard a reformed man say that 
he got so drunk on lager that, to use his own expres- 
sion, he " couldn't tell the difference between a two- 
dollar bill and Boston Common." Men drink for in- 
toxication, and the beer only ministers to this desire. 
Let us look at a modern public-house, or gin-palace, 
in London. 

There are some which are regarded more respecta- 
ble than others, but this corner establishment is an 
average "palace;" is very gay, gaudy and glittering; 
its brilliant gas-jets gleaming through its windows of 

* 16,525 women were found drunk and disorderly in London, in 1878. 



A GMN--PALACE. 245 

finest plate glass. There is no lack of French polish 
and gilding. Tier after tier of gigantic casks sur- 
round the room. Beer is sold a halfpenny a pint 
cheaper than at the beer-house. It is curious beer, 
half sweet and half acrid, black, muddy, brown in the 
froth, unpleasant to the taste, adulterated, cobbled up 
that the dealer may get rich and the customer drunk 
and poisoned. There is very little beer that is not 
" doctored " and made even worse than in its original 
state by deleterious drugs. Indeed, every kind of 
intoxicating liquors is adulterated. The manufac- 
ture of wines, brandies, whiskeys, and other liquors 
is a wonderfully profitable trade. I have a book, 
obtained with some difficulty, on the manufacture of 
these articles, and the revelation is somewhat star- 
tling. But to return to the public^house. 

The area before the bar will hold seventy or eighty 
persons, allowing at the same time room for a stand- 
up fight. The gin-palace has not only a bar but 
divers boxes partitioned off* from the general area. 
There is the wholesale bar entrance, retail entrance, 
jug and bottle entrance ; but wholesale or retail, jug 
or bottle, it means beer and spirits. The bar is cov- 
ered with pewter, perforated to allow the drainings, 
washings and outspillings of the glasses to run 
through, — all which is dealt out again, under the 
name of " all sorts." The drinkers being shaky in 
the hand, the profit from this source tells up at the 
close of the year. At the back of the bar are pla- 
cards printed in colors and framed, telling of " Old 
Tom," " Cream of the Valley," " Superior Cream Gin," 
"Beer, Strong as Brandy, Tenpence a Pot," "The 
Dew off Ben ]^evis," "Kinahan's L. L., the Eight 
Sort." I was told, when in Dublin, that the origin of 



246 la:nt)lord and customers. 

the mark on the casks of Kinahan's L. L. is that one 
of the Lord Lieutenants some years ago was very par- 
tial to a certain kind of whiskey made by Kinahan, 
and when the casks were sent to the government 
house they were marked " Kinahan's L. L., the Right 
Sort." 

Look at the landlord, corpulent, hands in his pock- 
ets, his keen eyes fixed on the beer or gin-drawing 
gymnastics of his bar-man, who wears a cap and 
holds a piece of straw or the stalk of a flower in his 
mouth. See how viciously he bites the silver coin 
when suspicious of its genuineness. "When he gives 
you change, he slaps it down on the counter with 
" 'ere ye are," and to the next customer, " 'Now, then." 
There is generally a bar-maid or two, and the number 
is increasing (for they are found more attractive than 
men), with a brilliant complexion, long ringlets, and 
necklace. 

Look at the customers, for what you see in one gin- 
palace is seen in all, with some qualifications. There 
is a sickening sameness, for while some of them have 
a respectable appearance, a majority of the frequent- 
ers are thieves, beggars, hoary-headed old men, 
stunted, ragged, rickety children, blowsy, slatternly 
women, heavy-looking laboring men, gaunt, sickly, 
half-grown creatures. It is the same everywhere; the 
same woman giving her baby gin; the same haggard, 
dishevelled wife coaxing her husband home ; the same 
IDOor girl sitting meekly in a corner with both eyes 
blackened, while her partner is drinking; the same 
pale, weary-looking little man, who appears as if he 
had come up out of his grave to get another glass of 
gin, and has forgotten his way back; the same red- 
nosed man who disgusts you with his slang, and sur- 



PUBLIC-HOUSE SCENES. ' 247 

prises you with his Greek and Latin quotations; the 
same thin spectral man who has no money, with hands 
piteously laid over each other, standing for hours, 
gazing with gin-hungry eyes at the liquor, licking 
his fever-white lips, smelling, thinking, hopelessly 
longing. 

More dreadful than any, that same miserable girl, 
sixteen in years, one hundred in misery, with foul 
matted hair, ragged boots, cracked voice, tattered 
shawl, and hopeless eye; her haggard face stamped 
with the impress of death. See that man whitening 
his face to do the ghost in Hamlet! Here's a coster- 
monger, with a basket, pressing his way up to the 
bar, and jostles that vender of fish. 

''Now then, stupid, vere are you driving to, eh? 
I say, I'm blessed if there isn't the werry same fish 
you vos a- wending a week ago last Monday ! " 

"Come, old fellow, I'll butter your mufiins both 
sides for you, and throw in the pepper for nothing." 

"Till ye?" 

"Ikinandlvill." 

Both set down their baskets. The slang is awful. 
One of the raggedest, dirtiest, and smallest of the 
boys cHmbs on a barrel and shouts out "Fair play! " 
An extensive " shindy " is kicked up, and the fighting 
becomes, as one of them tells us, quite " permiscus." 
The pohce are called in, the house cleared, the doors 
closed; the mob dispersed, the door opens and the 
game goes on. 

Such is a fair specimen of a certain class, and by 
far the most numerous class of publics. In proof 
that my description is not overdrawn, I give an ex- 
tract from the leading newspaper of England: 
16 



248 FASHIOlSrABLE CAPES. 

"In other parts of the world," says the " London Times," "maybe 
seen the frown of the African when excited by rum, the contortions of 
Arabs under the influence of 'hashish,' Malays furious from 'bang,' 
Turks trembling under the effects of opium, Chinese strangely emaci- 
ated from its inordinate use ; but for a scene of horrid vice and filth and 
lust and fury, all drawn into one point and there fermenting, a man 
might search the world all over and not find a rival to a thriving public- 
house in a low, gin-drinking neighborhood. Is it, then, astonishing that 
of such scenes as these an eminent judge should say that the working- 
man often enters the public-house respectable and leaves it a felon? " 

"While the Londoners have imitated the Americans 
in some beneficial respects, they have imitated them in 
a ruinous direction in the cafes and saloons that are 
springing up in the best thoroughfares, — many of 
them very gorgeous and attractive, most of them 
with private apartments, the customers of a higher 
grade in the social scale than those to be found in the 
common but less dangerous gin-palace. I have stood 
as a looker-on before some of these places to note 
the patrons. They come in cabs or hansoms, — young 
girls with their gentlemen friends, perhaps lovers. 
Nothing there to offend the eye: a policeman on 
special duty; no noise, no profanity, no ribald songs; 
it is genteel. Such places are byways to perdition. 
Then there are the music-halls, — many of them dis- 
graceful, some more exclusive, others tolerably de- 
cent, all licensed by act of Parliament, — of which I 
may speak on another page. 

There is no trade so damaging to the community, 
so dangerous to the people, and so hardening to the 
dealer, as the trade in intoxicating liquors. Men 
naturally kindhearted, who would help a fellow-being 
in distress, risking their own lives to save other lives, 
seem, in this trade, to lose all humanity qr sympathy 
with the race, as far as their trade is concerned. 

The late Eev. "Wm. Arnot, of Edinburgh, at my 



REV. WM. AENOT. 249 

request furnished me with his views on the liquor 
traffic. His manuscript lies before me, and I tran- 
scribe some of the principal heads. He says : 

" The liquor traffic stands alone, and has no right to rank with the 
ordinary avocations of men. Bring it at once and bluntly to the test of 
common sense and conscience. Let there be five contiguous shops pos- 
sessed by five separate shopkeepers. The first sells bread, the second 
milk, the third leather, the fourth dry-goods, and the fifth intoxicating 
liquor. The five men ply their tasks all day, count the contents of the 
till at night, and consider the prospects of trade for the morrow. The 
more they have sold, the better for their own pecuniary interests. In 
this they are all alike. But the more that the customers have bought 
from the first four, the better for the general interests of the public ; the 
more that the customers have bought from the last, the worse for them- 
selves and for society. The other dealers may, with a good conscience, 
pray for the increase of their sales ; the fifth cannot pray, unless his con- 
science is seared as with a hot iron. He has seen many customers enter 
his shop to-day and spend money which he knows is worse than lost to 
them. He cannot desire that they should repeat their custom on the 
morrow without deliberately wishing ill to, his neighbor. In short, his 
own pecuniary interests are at direct variance with the interests of his 
customers. The prosperity of his trade is the ruin of those who deal 
with him. 

" A poor inebriate, with his mind weakened by frequent indulgence, 
demands a glass, pays for it, swallows it. He demands another; the 
dealer gives it : he gains a penny or two by the transaction ; but the 
penny, he can but know, is wrung from the life-blood of a brother. 
When such a wretch demands his glass, it is the experimentum crucis for 
the dealer. If at that moment he love his neighbor, he will refuse ; if 
he only love his own gain, he will give it. He stands helpless between 
these two dread alternatives : he must either abandon his own gains, or 
be the" agent in the perdition of his neighbor. There is in practice 
seldom any mental struggle, because a man soon becomes case-hardened. 
Generally the liquor-seller pours out the glass to* the drunkard without 
any uncomfortable twitches within ; this, however, is due, not to the 
innocence of the deed, but to the hardness of the doer's conscience. We 
do not say the liquor-seller is worse than other men ; but this business is 
so bad that he must either part with his trade in order to retain his 
humanity, or part Avith his humanity in order to retain his trade. 

"A certain large village in Perthshire, the centre of an agricultural 
district, is, like its neighbors, dotted much with public-houses, one of 
which, at the least equal to others in respectability, is kept by a widow. 
This widow had two brothers : one, unmarried, resided under her roof; 
the other, the father of a family, was a farmer in the neighborhood, 



250 THE LIQUOR TRAFFIC. 

whose brain had been permanently injured by long-continued habits of 
excessive drinking. The two brothers were wont to dine together, along 
with other relatives, in their sister's house, on the day of the weekly 
market of the village. One market-day the party had all assembled, 
and the dinner was not ready. The farmer was impatient ; his brother 
tried to soothe him with gentle words, and then left the room to hasten 
the preparation of the meal. The man could not, with his damaged 
intellect, lay any rein on the fury of his passion ; he followed fast, and 
in the lobby plunged a knife in his brother's breast. The wounded man 
was carried to his bed and died. The fratricide was tried for murder 
and found guilty, but on the ground of insanity was sentenced to per- 
petual imprisonment instead of death. The people pay the expense of 
that murderer's maintenance during the period of his natural life ; and 
the widowed sister, — bereft of both her brothers, the murdered and the 
murderer, — what of her? She had her brother's blood washed from the 
floor, then tucked up her sleeves, and continued to sell whiskey in the 
same house and the same room. At this hour that sister trips across 
*the spot that will not out,' with the server and glasses, to her jovial 
customers. She is not conscience-stricken, and her neighbors are not 
shocked. 

" The traffic in liquor, as it is commonly conducted, soon withers a 
woman's soul within her. It has no rights to plead, and we must lay 
restraints on those who are engaged in it, and save them from them- 
selves." 

The liquor traffic is the same unrighteous trade 
everywhere; its hardening influence on the traffickers 
is as manifest here as in Great Britain. The trade is 
no worse there than here; indeed, I believe that, as a 
general thing, the liquor-sellers there are a better 
class than here. Years ago it was considered hi many 
sections of our country a very disreputable thing to 
sell liquor; and whether we are "bravely" getting 
rid of that idea or not, the fact is, the business is as 
bad now as it ever was, and, I am inclined to think, a 
little worse. 

Some years since, in a hotel not far from Boston, 
a poor fellow who had been gambling nearly all night 
cut his throat in the room over the bar on the Sunday 
morning. The group round the bar were startled by 



THE MEANEST MEI^. 253 

a heavy drop of blood falling on the counter, and, 
looking up, discovered a large red stain on the ceil- 
ing, from the centre of which the drops of blood were 
gathering and falling on the counter, faster and faster, 
till they splashed on the floor. It was known that 
before the blood was cleaned from the bar and floor 
men were drinking and the trade went on, though it 
was the Sabbath-day. 

When poor McConnell cut himself to pieces in a 
bar-room in Washington, it was stated, and never 
denied, that the saloon-keeper boasted he had cleared 
over one hundred dollars by the operation, as so many 
came in to see the blood-stains where the poor fellow 
had lain ; and they could hardly come in without tak- 
ing a drink. 

The meanest men on the face of the earth are 
among the liquor-sellers in this country. I knew of 
a woman who had lost her husband by drink, and was 
left penniless, with four children. I do not say the 
drink-seller swindled him; but he had got possession 
of his little home, and all the poor sot had to show 
for his share of the bargain was the livery of the 
drunkard. The widow w^as left very poor, and took 
in plain sewing, w^hich w^as rather hard to get. Some 
time after the loss of her husband the liquor-seller 
called and condoled with her, asked her kindly about 
her prospects, professed his desire to serve her, and 
proposed that she should make some shirts for him; 
he wanted a dozen at fifty cents each, — that would 
be six dollars. Gladly the poor widow accepted the 
proposal, and began to think the liquor-dealer was a 
humane man. 

She toiled on, comforting herself with the thought 
of six dollars, and thinking pleasantly of what she 



254 DASTARDLY TRANSACTION". 

should do with the money. She planned for a pair of 
shoes for the shoeless boy, a dress for the girl, and so 
worked on till her work was done ; carried it to her 
employer, who found no fault with the work — all 
perfectly satisfactory. After examining the articles, 
he said, "I have always considered you an honest 

woman, Mrs. , anxious that all should have their 

dues. ISTow, I owe you six dollars, but I have a claim 
against you — that is, if you are the honest woman I 
take you for. I have a note of your husband's for 
five dollars, given me about a month before he died. 
Now, if I pay you one dollar, that will make us 
square ; " and actually returned her the note given by 
her poor, besotted husband, and the one dollar. This 
woman related this fact to me herself. Truly the 
" tender mercies of the wicked are cruelty." 

The result of this trade is to multiply want, aggra- 
vate misery, to stimulate every evil passion into crime. 
The sufferings of the victim are not all; the poverty, 
hunger, nakedness, and cold; the battered body, with 
mind beclouded, and conscience destroyed. If that 
were all, it would be enough to call loudly for some 
remedy; but this is not all: the drunkard's curses 
grow into blows upon his wife, and his savage vio- 
lence is expended on his children. Exaggerate the 
evil? Dr. Guthrie says: "It is impossible to exag- 
gerate ; impossible truthfully to paint the effects of 
this evil, either on those who are addicted to it, or on 
those who suffer from it; imbruted husbands, broken- 
hearted wives, and, most of all, those poor, innocent 
children that are dying under cruelty and starvation; 
that shiver in those rags upon our streets ; that walk 
unshod amid winter snows ; and with matted hair, and 



FRUITS OF THE TRAFFIC. 255 

hollow cheeks, and sunken eyes, glare out on us wild 
and savage-like from patched and filthy windows." 

This great curse cannot be ignored, and woe to 
those who, for profit or popularity, or any other mo- 
tives, will not only not seek to repress it, but actually 
encourage it. I cannot believe that any Christian man 
can investigate this evil and its causes, without being 
stirred in his inmost soul to do something to stem the 
terrible tide. Much of the indiflPerence is from want 
of knowledge; it is the apathy that springs from 
ignorance. 

Canon Farrar says : " I must confess that it is only 
familiarity with the subject that can at all impress us 
with its magnitude. In the providence of God, my 
own life has been passed in quiet country places, and 
it was not till I came to London, and not till my atten- 
tion was very deliberately turned by circumstances to 
it, that I saw how terrible was the curse which was at 
work in the midst of us. It seems to me nothing 
more nor less than a Fury, withering and blighting 
the whole fame of England. Every week in the 
organ of the United Kingdom Alliance is published 
a ghastly column called ' Fruits of the Trafl^c' It is 
no invention; it is no rhetoric; it is nothing that is 
disputable, nothing that can in the least be ques- 
tioned; it is nothing in the world but a series of hor- 
ribly prosaic cuttings from the accidents and offences, 
the police and criminal reports of other newspapers; 
and it records calamity after calamity and crime after 
crime, disease, shipwrecks, conflagrations, murders, 
the kicking and trampling of women, the maiming 
and murdering of little children, — all of which are 
directly attributed to the effects of drink, by the dec- 
laration of judges, by the reiterated testimony of 



256 A lyrUTlDERER. 

witnesses, and by the constant remorseful confessions 
of the poor criminals themselves." 

Can we submit to be taxed to support all that this 
curse brings upon us? I have before spoken of crime; 
let me relate a fact. In the Dartmouth prison was a 
prisoner, a fine-looking, intelligent old man, who had 
been in a respectable position in society. He was 
under sentence of penal servitude for life. His nature 
was kind, courteous, and amiable; he was so child- 
like and simple-hearted you could hardly conceive 
of his committing an act of brutality and violence; 
and yet he had murdered his wife, who, he said, had 
been dearer to him than his own life for twenty years. 
He had gone out to spend the evening with some 
friends, had taken an unusual quantity of liquor, and 
came home drunk. When expostulated with at the 
door by his wife, in his madness he struck her a blow 
that laid her dead at his feet. 

This reminds me of a case I met in one of our own 
state prisons. I was attracted, while speaking to the 
prisoners in the chapel, by the patient, gentle look of 
one of the convicts who sat before me, whose whole 
appearance was that of a mild-tempered, quiet man. 
After the service, one of the prison officers, in reply 
to my question, stated that this same man was serving 
out a life term. I asked what was the possible crime 
for which he was serving a life term in a state's 
prison. 

" Murder." 

^'Murder?" 

" Yes ; he murdered his wife." 

Having asked if I might have an interview with 
him, my request was granted, and I held a conversa- 
tion with him. 



UKAVAILma REGRET. 257 

" My friend, I do not wish to ask you any questions 
that will be annoying; but I was struck by your ap- 
pearance, and was so much surprised when I heard of 
your crime, that I thought I would hke to ask you a 
question. May I?" 

" Certainly, sir." 

^^ Then why did you commit the crime? What led 
you to it? " 

Then came such a pitiful story. He said: 

" I loved my wife, but I drank to excess ; she was 
a good woman; she never complained; come home 
when or how I might, she never scolded. I think 
I never heard a sharp word from her. She would 
sometimes look at me with such a pitying look that 
went to my heart: sometimes it made me tender, 
and I would cry and promise to do better; at other 
times it would make me angry. I almost wished 
she would scold me, rather than look at me with that 
patient earnestness. I knew I was breaking her heart, 
but I was a slave to drink; though I loved her, I 
knew I was killing her. One day I came home drunk, 
and as I entered the room I saw her sitting at the 
table, her face resting on her hand. Oh, my God! I 
think I see her now ! As I came in she lifted up her 
face; there were tears there, but she smiled and said, 
' Well, William.' I remember just enough to know 
that I was mad. The devil entered into me. I rushed 
into the kitchen, seized my gun, and deliberately shot 
her as she sat by that table. I am in prison for life, 
and I have no desire to be released. If a pardon was 
offered me, I think I should refuse it. Buried here in 
this prison, I wait till the end comes. I trust God has 
forgiven me for Christ's sake. I have bitterly re- 
pented; I repent every day. Oh, the nights when in 



258 ONLY ONE VICTIM. 

the darkness I see her face — see her just as she 
looked on me that fatal day! I shall rejoice when the 
time comes. I pray that I may meet her in heaven." 

This was said with sobbings and tears that were 
heart-breaking to hear. 

Only one victim among the many ! 



CHAPTBE xyni. 

DESPAIR AND DEATH. — STORIES OF RUINED HOMES 
AND BROKEN HEARTS. 



The Prisoner's Testimony — How Prisons are filled — The Offspring of 
Drink — Appalling Statistics — The Inhuman Father — Selling a Child 
for Two Pairs of Stockings — Getting drunk with the Proceeds — The 
Drunken Mother and her Dying Children — An Affecting Story — 
Sufferings in the Best Circles — A Terrible Story — The Brutal Hus- 
band and his Dead Wife — Horrible Brutality — Truth stranger than 
Fiction — The Clergyman's Suicide — The Lawyer's Despair and 
Death — Rum unmakes the Gentleman — A Dreadful Domestic Scene 
— The Beaten and Disfigured Wife — Destruction of Property — The 
Mountaineer's Home — Rum-Madness — Driven from Home — The 
Night on the Mountain — Terrible Destitution and Sufferings — 
The Desolate Home — Enticed to a Grog-Shop — A Drunken Sot — 
The Winter's Night — Eaten by Swine. 

^x ]Sr the " London Times " is a letter from 
a very intelligent man who suffered six 
years' imprisonment for crime committed 
under the influence of drink. I give a 
few extracts. He says: 

"During the whole of my stay in prison the ques- 
tion kept rising in my mind, What brings all these men 
here? Day after day I asked men with whom I came 
in contact what brought them to prison. I got as an 
answer the ' same dull, dismal, damnable old story,' over 
and over again." 

After referring to special cases of young men who 
had become bankrupt in pocket and health, belonging 
to respectable families, bank clerks and shopmen, 

259 




260 RESULTS OF DEINK. 

every one of whom traced their ruin to City and 
"West-End drinking-saloons, he says : 

" Now that I have passed a term of penal servitude as a consequence 
of similar folly, I seem scarcely able to understand in what the horrible 
fascination consists which keeps men day after day lolling over a refresh- 
ment public-house bar. The habit is confined to no class: mechanics, 
merchants, professional men, clerks, shopkeepers, and laborers are taking 
that wretched road. The convict prisons are crowded with men who, 
had they been abstainers from strong drink, would have been to-day the 
support and comfort of happy families. What their condition is, only 
those who have experienced the horrors of prison-life can understand ; 
what the condition of many of their families is, is too fearful to con- 
template." 

It is useless to shut one's eyes to the fact that, but 
for the drink curse, the number of criminals would 
be so small that at least two thirds of the convict 
prisons would be empty. The chaplain of the Clerk- 
enwell House of Detention keeps an elaborate note 
of the cases which come under his notice, and he 
finds that seven ninths of the cases which come to his 
prison come there as the result of drink. The chap- 
lain of a prison for females — not himself an abstainer, 
and he cannot therefore be accused of partiality to 
his creed — states from his note-book that out of one 
hundred and foi'ty-six persons brought to the prison 
in five days, one hundred and twenty-six came directly 
through the influence of drink. People can verify 
these statements as to the general result of drinking 
by a fair examination. Let me quote from the ex- 
convict's letter: 

*' I was compelled for six long years to listen to fiimily histories, to 
stories of crime and poverty, wretchedness and horror. It was with 
no disposition in favor of total abstinence that I tried to probe the cause 
of it. I had never been a teetotaler; had I been so, I should never 
have been in prison myself. But stern facts which came to my knowl- 
edge day by day forced me to the conclusion that a very large propor- 
tion of all the crime and all the poverty in the land is the direct oflfepring 
of intoxicating drink. 



JUDGE NOAH DAVIS. 261 

"Many of them inherited the vice from drunken fathers and mothers. 
They were taught to sip the drink in their babyhood, and took it from 
the hands of mothers who had stolen the money Avith which to purcliase 
it. I learned day after day, from the admissions of these criminals them- 
selves, that the poverty, ignorance, and want of proper homes had been, 
in nine cases out of ten, the consequence of drink." 

It seems amazing that well-authenticated facts do 
not move the people. Our own judges are continu- 
ally testifying to the crime produced by drink; yet 
how little do the great bulk of the people feel the 
pressure of such terrible facts. A committee of the 
House of Commons of the Dominion of Canada, re- 
porting in 1875, states that out of 28,289 commit- 
ments to the jails of the provinces of Ontario and 
Quebec during the three previous years, 21,236 were 
committed either for drunkenness or for crimes per- 
petrated under the influence of flrink. It is the same 
everywhere."^ 

If hydrophobia should produce in this country one 
hundredth part of the crime, poverty, misery, taxa- 
tion, and the multiplicity of evils that drink does, 
there would not be a living dog in the United States 
in six months. Every lady would give up her pet 
spaniel, the hunter his setter and pointer; even the 
very watch-dogs would be destroyed, or most care- 
fully guarded against contagion. 

The revelations of the results of the drinking cus- 
toms are appalling. Let us take a few well-authen- 
ticated facts. "We read statistics of pauperism, lu- 
nacy, and crime, and think no more of them than of 
a number of figures that mean nothing. But go 
where the shot strikes. Listen to the cry of that 
little girl as the sound rings out from that cellar. 

* Read Judge Noah Dayis' pamphlet on " Intemperance and Crimes," 
from which I have taken the above statement. 



262 AWPUL EEVELATIO:^S. 

Enter, and see that mere child of seven years writh- 
ing under the heavy blows inflicted with a large strap 
by a brutal, half-drunken man ; the poor little creature 
striving to defend herself, the blows fall alike on 
head, arms, and shoulders. "Will a father beat his child 
so young, in such a brutal manner? Perhaps; but 
this is a child he has bought from a drunken mother, 
who had sold her for half-a-crown to that cruel, 
drunken wretch, and who had spent the money the 
same day in drink. 

I saw an interesting little girl who had hip com- 
plaint, whose mother had sold her to a villanous 
tramp for two pairs of stockings. She sold the stock- 
ings, and got drunk with the proceeds. There is a 
man now in prison whose wife lost an eye some time 
since by his violence when drunk, and whose only 
child is deformed for life as the result of another 
drunken ^t. He is now conflned for depriving his wife 
of her other eye when they were both drunk. She is 
blind, he in prison, and the child is a cripple. 

A woman had two children suffering from fever. 
One morning she received from some ladies in the 
neighborhood all that had been prescribed by the 
doctor, together with money for their wants. The 
ladies went in the evening to inquire after the chil- 
dren, and found them alone in the agonies of death, 
induced by want and neglect. On being searched 
for, the woman was found drunk in a neighboring 
tavern. She had spent the money and then sold the 
articles of clothing, given in charity, for drink. All 
that could be done for the children was of no avail — 
it was too late. In the night the ladies left her when 
she had become somewhat sober, she making all sorts 
of promises. When they called, the next forenoon, 




A CELLAR SCENE.— THE BRUTE AND THE LAMB. 



CANNOT EXAGGERATE. 265 

they found the little corpses lying imstraightened 
where their spirits had left them; and the comforts 
their hands had provided a few hours before had gone 
to the pawn-shop. The mother was again drunk in 
the nearest grog-shop. 

Tell me of exaggeration in our statements ! Talk 
of enthusiasm, fanaticism, and monomania in our pro- 
test against this horrible evil and its cause ! Look at 
these facts! Do you wish any more? I can fill this 
book with the records of drink's doings. You say 
they are among the lower orders. There is more dif- 
ficulty in arriving at definite knowledge of cases in 
the so-called upper classes; for while the poorer seem 
to live very much out of doors, and accordingly what 
they do is known, the habits of the other classes are 
so covered by the circumstances of their position that 
we only see and know what crops out on the surface. 

But, oh, the revelations that come to me! If I 
should give you letters that I have received from 
mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters of education 
and refinement, — ladies belonging to the aristocratic 
circles, confiding to me the story of ruined homes, 
broken hearts, tarnished characters, the unnecessary 
sickness, the maniac's death, revealing scenes per- 
fectly appalling, you would say that my book was a 
volume of horrors, and yet all stern truth with no 
exaggeration. 

Bulwer says that "a wicked gentleman who has 
lost caste and character is more unreclaimable than a 
wicked clown, low born and low bred, that in propor- 
tion to the loss of shame is the gain in recklessness." 
A shrewd writer has said, " There is always hope for 
a dull, uneducated, stohd mau, led by accident or 
temptation into guilt; but when a man of ability and 



266 DETNK E^ HIGH LITE. 

education besots himself in the intoxication of dark 
and terrible excitements, and takes impure delight in 
slimy ways, the good angel abandons him forever." 
I believe it, for in my experience I have found such 
a man the hardest to reach, generally the most des- 
perate and reckless. He never takes his self- wrought 
ruin kindly; he cannot lie down in the ditch without 
shame and remorse; he has neglected opportunities, 
and he knows it; he compares the thing he is with 
what he was and might be but for his folly; he 
shrinks with disgust from himself; he gnashes his 
teeth at the retribution that must come, and takes his 
punishment with rage in his heart. Oh, yes, it is 
true in morals as it is in physics : the farther a man 
falls the deeper he goes. 

Here is an extract from a letter, written by a lady 
moving in the higher circles of society, who refers to 
a well-known doctor of divinity for proof of the state- 
ment should it be needed. After giving some details 
of the course of intemperance into which a gentleman 
of education and fortune, occupying a high social posi- 
tion, had fallen, and the distress and weary agony of 
his wife, she writes: 

"Mary's heart broke. I was with her during her last illness, and 
never have I seen such patience as she manifested. S was gone nearly- 
all the time, and when he did come we were obliged to lock the doors, 
and sometimes to send for help to keep him off, for he was furious when 
drunk, and once, when in drink, had fearfully whipped his sweet little 
girl. During her sickness I never went on my knees that I did not pray 
God most fervently to take her to Himself. At last she died. Having 
laid her out, we locked up the room, and left her in the chamber of 

death. That night S came home seemingly sober, and requested us 

to let him see his wife. So deceived were we by his well-assumed mel- 
ancholy, that we gave him the door-key. In about ten minutes after he 
left us, a servant came to the door weeping, and begged us to go and 
* take master away, for he was beating mistress.' We sent some of the 
gentlemen up. After they came back, we went to see what he had done, 



TEKRIBLE REVELATIONS. 267 

and there was my precious Mary, his own wife, who had never given 
him an unkind word, lying on the floor ; all her burial clothes torn from 
off her body, and that bruised and mangled to such a degree that the 
ladies in the room were unable to endure such a scene. Her old nurse 
and I stayed and shrouded her again, and her body was in such a condi- 
tion as to compel an immediate burial. The servant who saw him said 
that he dragged her from the bed on which she lay, and stamped on her, 

and then dashed her against the furniture. In a few months after S ; 

died drunk." 

My heart sickens as I turn to these letters which 
I have preserved. Such revelations! not fiction, not 
romance, but fact, and all produced by the use of that 
which, to say the best we can for it, is but a luxury. 
It is easy to talk of exaggeration, but I wish those 
who doubt the reality of such outrages could only 
once see for themselves. 

I venture to give a few extracts from over three 
hundred letters from the victims of this terrible evil. 
I have selected only those where the statements could 
be corroborated, and where the correspondents were 
reliable, and I give them as genuine. Those who 
did not sign their name sent me cards of reference. 
"Where I put initials I have the names. Some held 
interviews with me after I had received their letters. 
I have some communications well attested, but so fear- 
fully horrible that I refrain from publishing them. A 
gentleman writes me from Pittsburgh, signed W. K. : 

" In the year 18 — , a clergyman belonging for some time to the Meth- 
odist Church, one whom I had often heard preach, cut his throat from 
ear to ear in my parlor in broad daylight. I was at tea in another room. 
When I came into the parlor, to my utter astonishment he had the knife 
in his throat, up to the handle. I attempted to stop him, and very nar- 
rowly escaped being killed myself. This man had been highly respected 
for piety and talents, but he fell by indulging in the moderate drinking 
of ale, until he became a drunkard. Remorse of conscience drove him 
to the horrid act. He seldom drank anything but ale." 

Ale is a soporific and, according to authority, is a 
" good thing to sleep on." 
17 



268 FEARFUL EXPERIENCES. 

A most respectable gentleman writes from Ohio: 

" As a reminiscence for useful reference, allow me to narrate to you 

in short the life and death of an old friend of mine who lived in W 

County, in this State. His name was B C , a brother of J 

C , who at one time was one of the Supreme Judges of O . 

B was one of the ablest jurists, and for many years a partner of one 

of the first lawyers in the State. He began to drink in early life, when 
it was fashionable for everybody, from the clergy down to the common 
laborer, to 'take a glass.' He continued to circulate around on the edge 
of the whirlpool, until he ' couldn't quit.' He became, with his mighty 
mind and masterly legal attainments, a great sot. At one time, I heard 
him make one of the most cogent legal arguments I ever listened to ; 
and he said, after he got through, that while he was speaking he could 
see toads squatting in the corners and along the walls of the court-room, 
and serpents were coiling all around before his eyes, and hissing in his 
ears, while all manner of imps were dancing about in the air, spouting 
their blue breath in his face. Such is but a brief description of things im- 
agined, which he said tormented him so that he could hardly speak. And 
yet he recounted the evidence and applied the law and reasoning to the 
facts in the most masterly style, and more so than his partner, who was 
with him in the case. How can a man reason thus in delirium tremens? 

" A few weeks after this, the unfortunate inebriate, in the endeavor to 
climb the stairway to his office, made a false step near the top, and fell 
backwards to the ground, the stairway being outside the house. He was 
taken up, and conveyed to the house of his brother, the judge, where he 
died in a week or two in that horrible state of mind and body — mania-a- 
potu. During his illness, he was attended by the kind hand of his 
amiable brother and tender friend. His brother he would often curse. 
Had it not been for drink, this man of excellent mind and manly dispo- 
sition might have been yet living, an honor to his name, and of useful- 
ness to his kind. He was a bachelor. 

" Yours, &c., R. R. M ." 

I received the following from a gentleman in 
Canada: 

*' My father is a Scotchman by birth. He received the education of a 
gentleman's son in his native land; his abilities were of the highest 
order. He was, from his boyhood, of a fiery temper, and very easily 
excited; of a majestic mien, and a great favorite. He married, emi- 
grated to this country, purchased a farm and settled on it, living there 
for twelve years in the enjoyment of peace, happiness, comfort, and pros- 
perity. He at length thought that farming brought too meagre profits, 
and accordingly embarked in the mercantile business, dealing in liquors 
by wholesale and retail. He began to drink, and in less than two years 



A "gentleman" drunxaed. 269 

became a confirmed drunkard, and has been so for the past eighteen 
years, becoming a miserable wi'eck. The influence of liquor upon his 
mind defies description, as it always produced a maddening ejQfect. It 
never succeeded in destroying his locomotion, or laying him in the gutter, 
or numbing his tongue ; but, on the contrary, it always gave buoyancy and 
strength to his step, elasticity to his feet, and eloquence to his tongue ; 
while at the same time it made him a fiend to his own family, and par- 
ticularly to his wife. 

"Many times had my poor mother to flee out of her bed in her night- 
dress, in the coldest winter nights, and take refuge in the horse-stables 
and barns, and as frequently did her children throw her clothing out of 
the windows of her bedroom, to protect her body from the chilling north- 
ern blasts of the Canadian winters. On one occasion he locked her in 
her room, locked all the doors of the house, and then swore to my sister, 
who was about seven years old, that if she should make any noise while 
he was whipping her mother, that he would murder her. He then re- 
tired to the room where my mother was incarcerated, and dealt her a 
ponderous blow, which laid her upon the carpet, weltering in her blood. 
He then leaped upon her with his feet, pounded her face until it was 
black, and the blood oozed out of her ears, nose, and mouth ; when provi- 
dentially a neighbor, hearing the alarm, bm'st open the door, and, shall I 
say, saved my mother's life. 

" After he was released from the influence of alcohol, and saw what 
he had done to the wife of his bosom, whom he loved sincerely, he went 
almost distracted. For two months did he nurse her, and tried his very- 
best to restore her face to its natural appearance, but, alas ! it could not 
be effected ; she bears at this moment a long and deep scar upon her 
brow, done by the hand of her husband while under the influence of 
damning drunkenness. 

"But notwithstanding the fearful and tragical end that this revel had 
almost led to, it was soon forgotten. The appetite was too strong, too 
deeply rooted within him to be resisted, or to be conquered, and a multi- 
plicity of engagements, or at least pretended engagements, calling him 
fi-equentl}^ into company, revel has succeeded revel — spree has succeeded 
spree; and chasing wife and family with deadly instruments, and the de- 
struction of household fm-niture, have followed as necessary consequences 
during these last years. 

"My two brothers left him at the age of eighteen years, whom, on ac- 
comit of their being under age, he endeavored to prosecute, but he could 
not, in consequence of his having abused them. I left at the age of 
seventeen. I shall never forget that gloomy morning. It was the morn- 
ing that I was roused out of my slumbers by the rattling of the carriage- 
wheels, and the galloping of the horses up to the front door. I heard my 
father burst into the house, ripping and tearing like a madman, because 
the family were not out of their beds to salute him on his arrival home. 
He went into my mother's room, and seized her by the throat in her bed. 



270 MADNESS FEOM DRINK. 

When I heard her cry for help, I bounded out of my bed, and ran down- 
stairs, and rushed into my mother's apartment, and took hold of him be- 
hind his back, and by some supernatural strength prostrated him upon 
the floor. As soon as mother made her escape, I made mine, although 
pursued by father and his gun, and left a last adieu to my father's abode, 
and have since directed my attention to a profession. 

"His destruction of property has been exceedingly great. He has 
squandered thousands of pounds in drink ; drove horses to death ; broke 
carriages; consigned the most valuable clothing of the family to the 
flames ; destroyed household furniture, such as dishes, chairs, sofas, side- 
boards, stoves, clocks ; and all of which he would immediately replace, 
as soon as he would get sober, without counting the cost. 

(Signed) "A. M. K ." 

I had an interview with the writer, now following 
a profession in Canada. 

The next extract is from a very long letter written 
by a friend, relating to circumstances well known in 
the county where he resided. 

**Enos Cook resides, or his family does, upon the mountain side, 
about a mile east from our village, and far elevated above it in a wretched 
hovel built of logs (a dreary, lonesome, desolate place), he has been 
for many years the miserable victim of intemperance. His family, poor 
and destitute, have been the subjects of want and misery, of destitution 
and untold suffering, for many a sorrowful year. Yet they bore it in 
silence, and submitted without a murmur to the blows and brutal violence 
of the oft-infuriated husband and father, to the present occasion. 

" His wife, one of the most harmless, inoffensive persons, has all this 
time supported the family by hard work, away from home, at washing, 
house-cleaning, etc. (as all his earnings went into the liquor dealers' 
hands), often having to leave her little children at home alone, miles 
from her work ; yet she murmured not. And when her husband came 
home in a rage from liquor, she as silently permitted him to devour or 
waste the whole of the proceeds of her labor, as she dared say or do 
nothing to offend him. He has even, on many occasions, carried from 
home such of the articles of her earnings as were available to him, and 
exchanged them for liquor with the heartless rum-seller, leaving her 
and her children in utter destitution. To such treatment the woman has 
submitted for years. 

"This season has been, if possible, worse than former ones. She has 
been beaten frequently and dragged from the house, and on one occasion 
for several rods over the stony ground, for endeavoring to prevent him 
from murdering her son. On Thursday last, being destitute of liquor. 



DESTRUCTION OF PROPERTY. 273 

he collected from the mountain a quantity of pine knots (such as are 
used for kindling fires), and took them to the village and procured liquor. 
He then went to work and made a couple of splint brooms, for which he 
procured two bottles of liquor on Friday. Returning home intoxicated, 
he secreted one out of doors, went into the house and demanded of his 
wife something to eat. She told him she had nothing in the house, when 
he struck her a blow that felled her from her chair almost senseless on 
the floor, and fell to kicking her most inhumanly. When she was able 
to speak, she intimated that she would go to the poor-master for relief 
from this brutality, but this only enraged him the more, and added to the 
blows and kicks she had akeady received. 

" When his bottle was exhausted, forgetting what he had done with the 
other, he demanded it. The woman told him she knew nothing of it, 
when he turned to his daughter, about twelve years old, and ordered her 
to get his bottle or he would kill her. Alarmed for her life, the girl com- 
menced looking about the room, but not finding it, the madman seized 
her by the throat and was strangling her to suffocation, when the mother 
endeavored to prevail on him to desist. He then let go of the daughter, 
seized his axe and flew after his wife, but she had escaped out of doors 
just in time to prevent him from burying it in her brain. He did not 
pursue her, but raged about the room, striking his axe into the floor and 
threatening to murder the children. The few old chairs and all the fur- 
niture they had were smashed to pieces. He then opened a box contain- 
ing all the clothing she or the children had, tramped upon the contents, 
and then kicked them into the fire. 

•' In the mean time the woman went to the poor-master, and he told 
her he would do something next day. Toward night she ascended the 
mountain, and silently drew near her wretched home to learn the fate of 
her children. She heard her husband raving and swearing that when 
she returned he would maul her so that she could not get to the village 
again. Her youngest child, just old enough to walk, was outside the 
house. She seized it, and taking the miserable rag from her own shoul- 
ders, she wrapped it up and retraced her steps to a neighbor's house, 
where she spent the night of Friday. 

"Next morning, his liquor being gone, he having found the other 
bottle and drank the contents, he took two fowls, which had been given his 
wife for her labor, and carried them away. One he sold to a liquor- 
dealer, and raffled away the other to another one. 

"On Saturday, toward night, in the absence of her husband, the 
woman ventured home. But on his approach she retired, and when the 
officers went to arrest him, where was she? Gone to the village? No. 
She had taken refuge among the cliffs on the bleak mountain-side. Be- 
neath a shelving rock, upon that cold Saturday night, she and her infant 
were found, where she had gathered a few sticks and had succeeded in 
lighting a fire, thinking there to pass the night. This night would have 
been her last had not the officers told her to return to her house, as they 



274 THE RUINED MECHANIC. 

had secured him and would protect her. He was taken to Kingston jail 
on Sunday. 

" On that afternoon I went up to see the family, and the scene ex- 
ceeded my worst anticipations. The door, torn from its hinges, was 
leaning up to its place without being much protection from the cold 
wind, which around that pile of logs shrieked its shrill requiem over 
domestic happiness destroyed ; and although the sun was still shining, 
all was darkness within, save the feeble flashes of a scantily fed fire. 
There was not a window in the house, or any aperture through which 
light could find admittance except at the doorway. The mother, with 
her infant at her breast, and three other small children, were occupying 
the remnants of the broken chairs. When my eyes had become regu- 
lated to the room, I saw that there was nothing in it, save the axe, the 
empty box, a broom, an apology for a table, and two miserable bunks 
covered with old carpeting and rags. Such are the doings of rum, and 
such the home of the poor drunkard and his family. 

(Signed) -G. A. D." 

The gentleman who wrote the foregoing letter was 
well known to me. 

I now quote from a letter sent me by a gentleman 
of New York, relating to a case in Albany. 

'A worthy mechanic, I think a cooper by trade, had an interesting 
family, a fond wife and three children. For a long time he was indus- 
trious, irugal, and domestic in his habits. He was enticed from his 
usual path of virtue to a grog-shop, by his companions ; and from that 
time day by day he frequented that charnel-house of destruction, until 
he became an habitual drunkard. Night after night he would leave his 
family, and come home late, a perfect sot. His wife expostulated and 
did everything in her power to reclaim him, but in vain; he soon 
became lost to all obligations to his family. He was frequently so drunk 
that he could not reach his home until his poor wife had left her abode 
and her helpless children in search of him, and by the aid of friends had, 
night after night, brought him home a drunken sot. One cold winter 
evening, carousing with his bad associates, he left them, and in attempt- 
ing to reach his room he missed his way, and to find shelter he stumbled 
into an old hovel on Pearl Street, the basement of which was the usual 
retreat for the stray hogs of the city. In this filthy abode this poor 
creature made his bed for the night. Not reaching liis home, late at 
night his wife, with a friend, started in pursuit of him. After visiting 
the dens he usually frequented, they gave up the search in despair. The 
next morning they continued their search, and, sad to relate, they found 
the mangled body of this once fond husband and doting father, half 
eaten up by this herd of swine, with whom he had unconsciously taken 
shelter from the inclement storm. H. C , 7 G St." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

FOOTPRDsTTS OF RUM. — STOEIES OF RUINED HOMES 
AXD BROKEN HEARTS (CONTINUED). 



A Cry from Connecticut — Drunkenness worse than Death — Five Days 
with Delirium Tremens — Hope deferred — The Drunkard's Adopted 
Child — The Murdered Babe — The Wife shielding the Murderer, only 
to be murdered herself — The Murderer's Suicide — Last Scenes in the 
Domestic Tragedy — The Drunkard and his Dead Wife — The Drunken 
Clergyman preaching Old Sermons — Stealing Postage-Stamps to buy 
Rum — Another Clergyman ruined by Drink — An Unfeeling Father 

— Stealing his Little Boy's Shoes to buy Drink — The Drunkard's Cry 

— Pity for the Victims — A Blasted Life — The Drunkard's *' Ode to 
the Departing Year " — " What of the Ship?"— The Redeemed 
Man's Narrative — Evils of Social Drinking — Bitter Recollections — 
Maddening Desire for Drink — What is to be done? — The Dram- 
Shops of Birmingham — Sunday Drinking — Terrible Results. 



HERE is not a commonwealth but has 
felt in many homes the terrific curse 
of rum. Homes blighted by its deso- 
lation are countless. Out from Con- 
necticut, that " land of steady habits," 
comes this wailing cry. It takes the 
deepest suffering to call forth the an- 




uish of woman's lovinor heart: 



" I have never known but one sorrow. My father, a sister, and a 
brother have left me, and gone to their last home. I thought that was 
sorrow ; but how mistaken I was ! My loss was their gain. But I have 
a sorrow, a grief, a great gi-ief ; and it bends me down, and sometimes I 

275 



276 IS THERE J^O HELP? 

feel that it is insupportable. I have friends that know in part, and they 
say with one voice, ' Leave the cause.' I ask them, ' Can I forget, if I 
leave ? ' I cannot make them understand how I can love a man that has 
forgotten to respect himself Poor man ! nature has done much for him, 
and, with an education that might have helped him through life pleas- 
antly, all has been wasted, so far. He is but thirty-three years old, and 
yet many have been the nights that I have sat over him anxiously 
watching and fearing lest he should never wake again, and — I 
shudder when I think of it! — for five days I nursed and watched him 
through delirium tremens. I let no one but his father see him. How we 
both lived, God only knows, for he thought me an enemy. 

"At one time after that he became a Son of Temperance ; but through 
his acquaintances he fell. He was pleasing, and young men liked his 
company, and when invited he could never say ' No ; ' and now he 
doesn't seem to care what people say or think. Oh, he has fallen, fallen 
so far! So many times he has promised he would never taste again, 
and I believe he means it when he tells me so ; but he has not power to 
resist temptation. He sometimes says none care for him, — he is of no 
consequence. I am afraid I have lost what influence I ever did have. 
We are told, ' Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.' I feel it is too 
true ; for surely my heart is sick, and were it not for the consolation I 
find in the religion of Jesus, I should long ere this have despaired. Oh, 
that he could be saved! Can there be any help? His precious soul, 
what will become of that? If there is any advice you can give me for 
his benefit, no matter what it may be, it shall be followed as far as lies 
in my power. What would not a woman do for her husband? And I 
have a little son, my only child, just ten years old; and oh, how I 
tremble for him lest he will follow his father's example ! He is a child 
quick and impulsive, and fond of his father, and has many times asked 
why he can't drink beer, if his father does. Oh, dear sir, you can't 
know the anguish of a heart lacerated as mine has been ; but I know you 
can feel for a poor bleeding heart, and so I h^ve trespassed on your time 
and patience. I beg you will pardon me; but if you think for one 
moment of a poor man falling lower and still lower, I believe you will 
both pity and forgive me. M ." 

The following are extracts from a Philadelphia 
letter, revealing the scenes in a domestic tragedy 
which occurred in that beautiful city: 

" Some few years ago I was in business at No. 30 Market Street, at 

which time a man named J C— — applied to me for work. He was 

quite genteel in appearance, and I gave him work, which was satisfac- 
torily done. For some time I continued to employ him ; but he seldom 
came himself for or with his jobs. His wife was in the habit of coming 



THE ADOPTED CHILD. 277 

to the store, and on one occasion I asked her why John did not himself 
bring in the work, when she rekictantly told me of her fears to trust him 
out, if it could be avoided, lest in his weakness of habits he should drink 
to excess, when he was sure to abuse her. So long as he kept from 
liquor, however, he was affectionate, industrious, and as good a husband 
as any woman could wish for." 

After relating scenes of distress, imprisonment, 
brutality almost beyond belief, nearly murdering his 
wife, — revelations of sickening and revolting cruelty, 
— he writes : 

" They had adopted a cliild, and John was very fond of the babe, and 
his wife became very much attached to it. 

"He left home one morning early, came back about eleven o'clock; 
he was drunk, and he then said that it was time the child had gone after 
its mother, — that he was not going to be troubled with other people's 
brats. However, he soon went out again, and did not return home until 
just about dusk. When he staggered up-stairs, the windows in the room 
were raised, as the weather was quite warm. His wife was just in the 
act of lighting the lamp as John went over to the settee, upon which she 
had just laid the child. Without a single word, he picked up the child 
and threw it out the window. The woman flew down the stairs to the 
street, and there she found the babe : it was dead ; the head was smashed. 
She fainted at the sight. Oh, it was horrible ! A crowd soon collected. 
She was, with the child, taken into the house. And now she was in a 
dilemma : her husband was a murderer, and yet she loved him still ; for 
she knew, or felt then, that it was not his nature to commit a violent 
wrong, only when his action was controlled by rum. She therefore 
sought by stratagem to release him from any charge, and battled a little 
while with her conscience, and then, with grief and sorrow depicted on 
her countenance, she told those persons around her that she had been 
sitting at the window with the child in her arms, where she had fallen 
asleep, and that the child rolled out of her arms and fell to the pave- 
ment. Unfortunately for her, she was believed. The child was buried, 
and there was nothing afterward said about it. John sometimes spoke 
of it, but never without bringing tears in his eyes. She believed that he 
never forgave himself for having committed the murder." 

This child was a little girl six months old. Some 
time after, the poor woman was compelled to separate 
from him, and for a while he could not discover her 
whereabouts. One Sunday evening the gentleman 
who writes me was at his home in 'Korih Fifth Street, 



278 A DOUBLE MUEDEEER. 

when the man called, as described in these closing 
words of the letter: 

" He appeared to be sober, and upon my invitation he came in. After 
sitting a while, he apologized for calling upon me on Sunday, but he 
wished to know if his wife still worked for me, or if I had seen her 
lately. I told him that she had done no work for me for many months, 
and that the last time I saw her, she told me that she was living in Jer- 
sey. He then said that he met her in the street the night before (being 
Saturday night), and that she would not speak to him ; and that if he 
could find her, he would kill her. He appeared much irritated. I then 
talked to him, and tried to convince him that. he alone was in fault; that 
if he would only entirely abandon the use of rum, that there was no 
doubt of much happiness still in store for him. I made use of every ar- 
gument to induce him to become a sober and industrious man. I offered 
him every encouragement to do so, by promising to give him employ- 
ment, and at the same time tried to convince him that if he could keep 
sober and industrious, she would find it out, and would be glad to come 
back to him. 

"I suppose he stayed with me for an hour, and before he left, he be- 
came softened, and promised to reform. After expressing an everlasting 
obligation to me, he left. 

"On the following Sunday, about noon, I was walking in the neigh- 
borhood of the Exchange, and observing a crowd around a bulletin- 
board in front of a printing-ofiice, I crossed over, and judge of my sur- 
prise when I read as follows : ' Horrid Murder ! Last evening, at nme 

o'clock, a man named John C , a tailor by trade, followed his wife 

into a house in Front Street, below South Street. She had been out in 
the streets for a bucket of water ; he followed her up into the third story, 
when he stabbed her in forty different places. The screams attracted 
persons to the spot ; and when they attempted to take hold of him, he 
with a long knife cut himself across the stomach, and died in a few min- 
utes, having committed a double murder.' At the inquest held imme- 
diately afterward, it was proved that he was under the influence of i^wm." 

I have witnessed scenes that have haunted me for 
days. In company with a friend, I once called on a 
man who had formerly been a gentleman of position, 
but who was now living on an annuity of $500 per year 
— a comparative pittance saved from the wreck of his 
fortune. His wife was very ill. When we arrived, 
we found the man drunk, sitting by the fire smoking, 
and the wife lying dead on the miserable pallet in the 



A rRIGHTFUL BLOW. 279 

room. The drunkard was making a great noise, and 
declaring she was not dead. The gentleman with me 
laid his hand on him, and said: 

" Now, you keep still ; your wife lies there dead, 
and I will not permit this noise." ^ 

The drunkard sprang to his feet, exclaiming: 

" I'll let you see whether she is dead or not." 

Before we could prevent, he sprang to the bedside, 
and dealt on the upturned face of the dead woman a 
terrific blow with his fist. Oh, I heard the sound of 
that blow for weeks, at night and by day ! 

Rev. Charles Garrett, of Liverpool, tells us that he 
saw a man, under whose ministry he once sat with 
profit, in a low public-house, with his face blackened, 
preaching some of his old sermons to degraded men 
and dissolute women for twopence; while his wife, 
refined, educated, and delicate, was struggling with 
the newsboys for the last edition, that she might get 
bread for her suffering children. 

A poor creature, half naked, was dragged from 
under the bench of a music hall, who proved to be a 
clergyman of the Church of England, and one of the 
best Greek scholars in the United Kingdom. He was 
taken to the house of a good Samaritan, and kept there 
four weeks. He would steal postage-stamps of his 
benefactor to get drink; and when started again in 
life, with a good suit of clothes, hat, boots, and all 
necessary for respectability, he was seen ten days 
after, ragged and wretched, asking for alms. 

A gentleman was so reduced by drink as to bring 
his aristocratic wife to one room. jSTo furniture ; a heap 
of rags in one corner, and an old box for a table. 
When the gentleman whom I had sent visited them, 
there was a cup of weak tea and a bit of dry bread on 

* See Illustration, page 295. 



280 A " GENTLEMAISr " THIEF. 

the box, and three orange-boxes turned up for seats. 
There were the wife and six children; the youngest 
fourteen days old; and that morning the husband and 
father had stolen the last blanket they had, and sold it 
for a shilling. Afterwards, when charity had helped 
the family, and provided his poor boy with shoes, he 
stole them in the night, and got drunk with the pro- 
ceeds. He considered himself so much the gentleman, 
that upon his complaining of having nothing to do, 
when a situation was offered him as conductor on a 
street-car, he refused, alleging that he never would 
stoop to a menial occupation. But why try to record 
cases that are unrecordable and innumerable? 

How many of the victims of this vice are strug- 
gling for freedom ! how earnestly they plead for help ! 
how eager they are to lay hold of any straw that will 
help to save them, may be known by the despairing 
cry coming up from the depths. Read this : 

" My object in addressing these few lines to you is, to ask if you can 
tell me how or by what means I am to do awa}^ with the excess of drink. 
My medical man, knowing my habits, distinctly says that after accus- 
toming myself to spirituous and other liquors for so many years, it would 
be my death to give them up. My inclination is to sweep the use of 
them away altogether. My appetite is so craving, that if I give them 
up for one day, my life is not only rendered intolerable, but my nervous- 
ness is so great, great, as to completely crush out my inclinations to the 
pleasures of this world. 

"My means hitherto have been sufficiently ample to gratify my pas- 
sion, or inordinate appetite, for strong drink ; but if this strong drink is 
indulged in, my means cannot last. Would to God that you may be the 
instrument enabling me to trample under foot drink that is already get- 
ting master over me ! I shall hear (God willing) your next discourse ; 
and I sincerely hope that you may be the means of converting a poor, 
wretched, and intemperate man." 

One cry among thousands. I have not the heart to 
transcribe them. 

How thoroughly we often condemn the drunkard, 



VERSES BY A VICTIM. 283 

considering him only reckless and wilful! Some may 
be so; but did we know all the struggles and yearn- 
ings to do better, all the aspirations in the lucid mo- 
ments for a higher and nobler life, we would pity the 
victims, rather than denounce them as reprobates. 
Young men, who now despise the drunkard in his 
weakness, God grant you may never be enchained 
and enslaved by the fearful appetite which, gratified, 
becomes at length a master-passion, and is a power 
that can never be understood or explained. To grat- 
ify it, men have sacrificed all that makes life desirable. 
Look into the inner heart of many a drunkard, and 
you will pity him. 

A man of education, with w^hom I was brought in 
contact, was a victim, and though he died miserably, 
there was something in him at times very attractive. 
From his manuscript in my possession are the follow- 
ing portions of two little ]3ieces he wrote. I omit 
several stanzas, and begin with the fifth, upon an 

"ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR. 

"Old Year! Avhat hast tboii taught me? 
Old Friend! what hast thou brought me? 
What good or ill hast wrought me? 

Hath bliss o'er-balanced pain? 
What messages art bearing 
For the Eternal's hearing, 
At the last day's appearing? 
Oh, questions wild and vain! 

Since thy dim dawn, Old Year, 
How much of hope and fear ! 
How many a bitter tear 

Hath fallen from sorrow's eye! 
How many lithe and bright. 
Who hailed thee with delight, 
Have bowed before Time's might. 

And laid them down to die ! 



284 THE OLD YEAR. 

Love hath been changed to hate ; 
Friendship to formal state ; 
Youth — with its dreams elate 

Its hopes — how fondly cherished! 
Hopes of renown, of fame, 
Its ardent toils to claim 
The glory of a name. 

Each after each have perished. 

Billow of time, sweep on! 
Go, join tlie ages gone. 
Where earth's sun never shone 

To gild the shadowy shore ; 
Farewell ! but not for aye ; 
Thou'lt meet me on that day 
When sun and stars decay, 

And time shall be no more ! 

Yea, when the trump sounds clear. 
When all the dead appear 
Before the Judge severe ; 

When heaven and earth shall flee; 
Oh, then. Old Year! I feel 
Conviction o'er me steal. 
That thou, for woe or weal, 

Wilt a ' swift witness ' be ! 

Dead! the Old Year hath died! 
The new one by my side 
Stands in his jocund pride, 

Heedless of woe or crime. 
New Year ! what dost thou bring 
Upon thy radiant wing? 
Methinks I hear thee sing 

A glad ' To-morrow ' chime. 

To-morrow, false to-morrow! 
We consolation borrow. 
Whilst suffering present sorrow, 

From thy perpetual dawn! 
Time — bright time — coming ever; 
We wait, but greet thee never! 
Fruitless each wild endeavor 

To have thy veil withdrawn! 



A "pacific" ehtme. 285 

Haste onwai'd, Year, new-born; 
I laugh, this natal morn. 
Thy promises to scorn! 

I scarcely welcome thee. 
Past years are but past pains ; 
My years but galling chains, 
Whose scars this heart retains ; 
" And such, too, thou wilt be ! " 

He was at my house at the time when the country 
was deeply anxious to know the fate of the steamer 
Pacific, many years ago, and he wrote the following. 
I copy from his manuscript, which lies before me, 
entitled, 

"WHAT OF THE SHIP? 

OR, SHIP WRECKS AND MIND WRECKS. 

A •pacific' rhyme. 

" There is gloom in each eye, and a tremor of lip, 
As the question sounds dolefully, * What of the ship?' 
Through long days of doubt we have hoped, but in vain, 
To see her return to her haven again. 

%And through each dark night we have longed for the morn, 
For with every new dawning a new hope was born ; 
Loving eyes gaze afar through the mists of their tears, 
But no trace of the missing 'Pacific' appears. 
* Ah, she yet may be safe ! ' lingers still on the lip ; 
For the heart of affection won't give up the ship. 

Ran she foul of a berg? Did the ice-fields close round her? 
Did she drift with the • pack,' or at once did she founder? 
'Midst the fogs of ' the Bank,' and the waves' ceaseless dash. 
Was there heard, when ships met, a wild shriek and a crash? 
And, crippled and staggering, still ploughs she the wave ; 
Straining -eyes from her deck seeking aught that might save ? 
Or in some sheltered cove of the isles of the West, 
Hath she found, from the strife of the elements, rest? 
Though such questions may hopefully leap from the lip. 
The cry of suspense is still — ' What of the ship? ' 

It is thus, ever thus, when some palpable woe 

In the great city's heart robs the blood of its glow; 

A public catastrophe all men deplore. 

Though they heed not life's tragedy acting next door! 



286 WHAT OF THE SHIP? 

Even now, while anxiety, anguish, dismay, 
Is felt for the fate of the steamship away, 
There is near us full many a once gallant bark. 
Drifting hopelessly on, or going down to death's dark! 
Vessels straining and leaking ; and yet scarce a lip 
Asks hopefully, anxiously — * What of the ship? ' 

For, oh! there are wrecks on humanity's sea, 

More fearful than any on ocean can be ! 

Once with far-streaming pennons they floated along. 

While hope lent its sunshine, and music its song ; 

Ever cloudless the skies, ever azure the seas, 

Ever favoring the currents, and joyous the breeze! 

Passion hurried them on, and in beauty's bright smile 

They basked on the shores of each Eden-like isle ; 

And regarding life's voyage but pleasure's gay trip. 

They abandoned the helm, nor thought — 'What of the ship?' 

And the wine-cup was filled, and again filled the bowl, 

Till madness crept into the heart and the soul. 

Care was flung to the winds; hope ne'er whispered again; 

And pleasure, unmasked, showed the visage of pain! 

On rushes the doomed one ; no pilot to guide. 

As helmless, and chartless, he floats o'er the tide ; # 

Driving on, driving on, urged by passion's wild throes, 

Ruined — raving — yet onward he recklessly goes. 

To end with death's draught, what began with a sip ; 

And then — fearful question — ' Oh ! what of the ship? ' 

Aye, what of the ship? They are scouring the wave. 

In hope the ' Pacific ' to find and to save ; 

But what of the human wrecks ? Shall we not send 

To aid them in peril a brother — a friend? 

Forlorn and despised, on they drift to their doom. 

O'er the world's raging sea, to their refuge — the tomb! 

Let them feel that, though tempest-tossed, shattered, distrest, 

Hope its torch may relume, that they yet may be blest, — 

That smiles may yet play upon brow and on lip. 

If the angel of Temperance but charters the ship!" 

Now read a few words from one who has escaped : 

"I will not trouble you with a long account of my career in the ser- 
vice of rum ; were I to do so it would fill, not one, but many sheets. I 
am a young man, just entering my twenty-ninth year; thirteen years 



BITTER RECOLLECTION-g. 287 

ago I came to this city from the countiy to engage in business. I came 
poor but honest, with the warning voice of a Christian mother (who had 
gone home to that Saviour whom she loved) fresh in memory. Would 
to God I had adhered to her counsels ; had I done so, rum would never 
have crossed my lips. For nine years the prospects before me were bright 
and promising. I enjoyed the respect and confidence of my employers, 
and was beloved by all my friends ; but a dark cloud came over me, 
which well-nigh proved my destruction. 

"At the age of twenty-four, the seeds sown in the social circle began to 
develop themselves (for it was in the society of friends that I was first 
induced to touch the intoxicating cup). Oh, how little do friends think 
when offering the wine-cup to the young man, that they may be planting 
in him the seeds of a destruction that will ultimately consign him to an 
eternity of woe! And here let me protest with yom'self against that 
accursed custom of social drinking, which is opening wide the flood-gates 
of destruction, and educating young men by scores for the rum-shop. 
The work of reformation must begin at home. Let men become teeto- 
talers, bring up their sons the same, and banish from their homes all 
that intoxicates ; then there is some hope for the rapid advancement of 
the temperance cause. Take from the rum-seller his customers, and he 
will soon abandon a business that fails to enl'ich him. Much as I now 
love the temperance cause, and firm as is my determination to adhere to 
it, looking to God for strength to sustain me, my heart bleeds for it when 
I look around and see the stumbling-blocks thrown in its way by the 
so-called politeness of society. 

" From the social circle I took to the bar-room, where I drank with 
friends and acquaintances. From this point my course was downward. 
I would give worlds to-daj^ did I possess them, could I wipe out forever 
the bitter recollections of the past. For more than four years rum held 
me its slave. In that time I lost my situation in business ; all my friends, 
with a few exceptions, deserted me, and gave me up as hopeless. On 
my last spree I put up at an hotel, kept out of the way of my friends, and 
for four weeks was constantly drunk ; ate scarcely anything, drank in- 
cessantly; sleep was to me a stranger, except when rendered totally 
unconscious by liquor. All the energies of my waking moments were 
concentrated in the maddening desire for drink. A friend found me at 
a fortunate moment ; had I remained a day longer as I was, the hand 
that pens these lines would this day be mouldering back to its mother 
earth, and over the sod that covered me might have been written 'A 
Drunkard's Grave.' 

" My friend took me to his home and nursed me through a spell of 
sickness that brought me to the brink of the grave. I had an attack of 
delirium tremens. I need not detail to you the horrid sufferings I passed 
through — you know too well its horrors ; your own description of this 
horrid disease is true to the letter, for I have experienced it all. God 
mercifully spared my life and restored me to health. Blessed be His 

18 



288 WHAT IS TO BE DONE? 

name ! When I did recover, there was one fixed and determined resolu- 
tion formed, — that was to cast from me forever the firebrand that had 
been consuming my very vitals. Five months have now rolled round 
since that time in which I have adhered strictly to my resolve." 

I thank God for the rescued, but with all our efforts 
the disease is spreading; and being so constantly 
brought in contact with the results, must be my ex- 
cuse, — no, I will not erase the word " excuse," — I 
need no excuse for speaking or writing, — the iron 
has entered my soul, and, as sitting in my library, I 
recall the past and remember the scenes I have looked 
upon, the harrowing facts that have come under my 
own observation, I feel ashamed that the thought of 
an apology entered my mind for one moment. 

The question ought to arise, "What is to be done? 
"What can I do to stem this awful tide? To quote 
the words of an eloquent speaker: 

"Are we to pass from chamber to chamber of this great temple of 
abominations, and look at what we see, as though it were a cabinet of 
curiosities, and gaze coldly on all these scenes of shame and horror that 
are painted on its walls ; or are we to be aroused by these facts merely 
to talk the vague language of philanthropy, and to sigh over wretched- 
ness, while we do not so much as lift a single finger to help the 
wretched?" 

This whole country ought to be flooded with facts. 
Let us have committees formed to investigate. Have 
we no men of standing with patriotism sufficient to 
move them to some sacrifice that they may ascertain 
more fully the extent of this evil? In Birmingham, 
England, one Saturday night. Major Bond, superin- 
tendent of police, had thirty-five public-houses watched 
for three hours, and on the average each house turned 
out twenty-five drunken people, — or a total of eight 
hundred and seventy-five within three hours. The 



NO ' EXAGGERATIO:sr. 289 

people were startled by such a revelation; but such a 
disclosure cannot be made without self-sacrifice. 

One great agency in obtaining the Sunday Closing 
Bill for Scotland was the persevering efibrts of in- 
dividuals to obtain just such statistics with regard to 
Sunday drinking; and when the police failed to do 
the work, or were not permitted by the authorities, 
many gentlemen of high standing took the work upon 
themselves, and, in spite of insults from those inter- 
ested in the trafiic, continued the work, and scattered 
broadcast the results of their efibrts, until the people 
were frightened at the revelation. 

These are the statistics that the people are forced 
to accept. The cry of " exaggeration " fails to afiect 
them. I have heard men ridicule the idea of 50,000 
drunkards dying each year in the United States. Let 
us have a thorough investigation, and we shall find 
that it is simple fact. 

Dr. Farre, of England, who has evinced the oppo- 
site of favor to teetotalers and to teetotalism, has 
confessed to 53,000 annual alcoholic deaths in the 
United Kingdom, with a population 14,000,000 less 
than in the United States; they expend 140,000,000 
pounds sterling (or about 700,000,000 dollars), and 
we $750,000,000, with our greater population, every 
year on drink. The same terrible results are to be 
seen the world over. 



CHAPTEE XX. 



"SECEETS" AKD " TRICKS " OF THE LIQUOR TRADE, 
A GLANCE BEHIND THE SCENES. 



Rum is Rum the World over — Drunken Mohammedan is said to have 
"gone to Jesus" — Speech of Canon Farrar — Ludicrous Side of the 
Question — The Connoisseurs of Liquors — Wine-Drinkers hum- 
bugged : — The Secret of Success in the Manufacture of Liquors — 
— Ingredients — How "Imported Cognac Brandy" is made — How 
Schiedam Schnapps and Common Gin are made — Cliampagne Re- 
ceipt — " Native Catawba Wines " made without Grapes — " Fine Old 
Port" — Receipts for making Porter — "Ale " good to sleep on; how 
made — To the Uninitiated — How to bottle neatly — Sugar of Lead 
as a Sweetener — Filthiness no Hindrance to the Drinker — The 
Effect of these Revelations — The Slaves of Fashion. 



jLCOHOL, the product of civilization, 
has become the curse of civilization. 
It accompanies the first rude settlers 
on the desolate frontiers, as a curse; 
it follows in the wake of, or precedes 
the pioneer of Christianity in the des- 
erts of heathenism, as a hindrance. 
The missionary finds it the greatest ob- 
stacle to his work. It is the universal 
testimony that the introduction of alcoholic drinks 
among pagan nations has been an unmitigated curse 
to the population. By it the Indian of our own 
country has been swindled, deceived, and reduced far 

290 




THEY ARE CHRISTIANS. 291 

below the original state in which he was first known 
to civilization. 

I have letters from many parts of the world, — the 
same story, whether from civilized Europe or pagan 
Africa ; whether from Asia, with its millions of Ori- 
entals, or from our own country, and we know what 
it is, and what it has been to us. 

In a letter from Australia the writer says : " Intoxi- 
cating drink is the curse of our young colony." 

The following facts are from a letter received from 
a British ofl3.cer in India. After saying that the Mo- 
hammedans are abstemious and do not drink intoxi- 
cating liquors, as a rule, the writer says : 

u rj^Y^Q remark is often made by the natives, when 
they see a Mohammedan drunk, ' He has left Moham- 
med and gone to Jesus.' " 

On one occasion, while he was urging a native to 
examine the claims of Christianity, two drunken Eng- 
lish soldiers passed. 

" See," said the native, " do you wish me to be like 
that? As a Mohammedan, I could not; as a Chris- 
tian, I might." 

At a ball given by the officers a request was made 
to the general that rations of spirits should be served 
to the military band. The general objected, on the 
ground that they were Mohammedans. The reply 
was, " 'No ; they are Christians ; " and the spirits were 
ordered. 

This is the evil we mourn over. Shall we do no 
more? Many tell us we exaggerate, or select the 
worst cases. Again I say, let such investigate. Par- 
don me, if I give a short extract from a speech of 
Canon Farrar in the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, — a 
place which, twenty years ago, no one could have 



292 CANO]^ FAERAR. 

imagined would ever be opened for a temperance 
lecture- the very proposal would have been hailed 
with a shout of incredulous derision. He says: 

" Gentlemen : I look around me, not here in England only, but also 
through all the world, over dependencies upon which the sun never sets, 
and I see the frightful, the intolerable evidences of the devastation 
wrought by one fatal sin — the sin of drunkenness ; and that sin caused 
by one fatal product — alcohoL diluted in intoxicating drinks. I am 
unable, I have not the heart, to-day, to touch on one-tenth or one-hun- 
dredth part of the proofs which demonstrate to every serious mind at all 
acquainted with the facts, the awful importance of this question. Focus 
the lurid gleams which flash upwards from this pit of destruction, and 
you will see how frightful is the glare. Track the subterranean ramifi- 
cations of this evil, and you will see how the whole nation, the whole 
empire, is undermined ; how every tread we take is over fire, ever burst- 
ing through the treacherous ashes. 

"It is matter not of assertion, but of sternest demonstration, that the 
drink trafiic causes the most amazing waste of our national resources ; 
that to it are due, mainly and almost exclusively, the worst phenomena 
of pauperism ; that it causes seventy-five per cent, of those melancholy 
cases of domestic ruin which fill our police courts : that it contributes 
enormously, both directly and indirectly, to the hideous social evil ; that 
but for it, on the testimony of nearly every judge on the bench, crimes 
of violence would well-nigh disappear; that it is the cause, both directly 
and indirectly, of a most terrible mortality ; that it chokes our prisons, 
mad-houses, and penitentiaries ; that it creates an hereditary taint which 
makes life a curse to a stunted population ; that because of it, thousands, 
ay, tens of thousands, of miserable men, and yet more miserable women, 
and poor little children, most miserable of all, lead lives of such squalor 
and anguish, as only they who have witnessed can conceive ; that it dev- 
astates the humanity, and blights the bodies and the souls, not only of 
600,000 drunkards, but of the millions which their ruin drags down to 
shame ; that it frustrates our religious efforts at home ; that it destroys 
and ruins our mission efforts abroad ; that it is the chief bane and ruin 
of our homes ; that it is the darkest stain on the glory and prosperity of 
our nation. 

" Exaggeration, gentlemen ! There is not one word of this indictment 
which is not true to the letter ; not one word of it which is not capable 
of the most rigorous proof which evidence can establish and statistics 
contain. And unless it be exaggeration to say twilight when we mean 
midnight, then it is none to say the blackness of its darkness could only 
be represented in such colors as when some mighty painter dips his 
pencil in the hues of earthquake and eclipse. Those who know nothing 



staiitli:n^g statements. 293 

whatever about the subject — those who are so unhappy as to be blinded 
by the possession, in some shape or other, of a share, or a freehold, or 
an interest in the production or the sale of that which is the cause of all 
this iniquity — may call this impeachment exaggerated ; but they have 
never shaken, they have never even attempted to shake, the damning 
evidence on which it is founded, and to which concur, with startling 
unanimity, the testimony of every person, and every class of persons, 
that has in any way studied or come across the subject. That evidence 
has been produced in the most public way, and in every possible way, 
again and again ; it has been produced before committees of the House 
of Lords, and before committees of the House of Commons ; it has been 
gathered for the Northern House of Convocation, and the Southern 
House of Convocation ; it has been collected by statesmen, and collected 
by political economists; it has been furnished from sources the most 
opposite and the most unsuspected ; it is derived from clergymen and 
from judges, from jailers and from policemen, from the heads of work- 
houses and asylums, from physicians and from publicans ; and it stands 
not only unshaken, but absolutely unchallenged. And more than this, 
it is constantly admitted, at unguarded moments, by the very agents and 
the very writers who detest teetotalers, and who leave no stone unturned 
to defeat Sir W. Lawson, and to overthrow the Alliance. Language 
which, if used by a temperance reformer, would be angrily set aside as 
exaggerated, is quite freely used at unsuspected turns by such grave 
and moderate organs as the ' Quiver,' the ' Standard,' and the ' Quarterly 
Review.' " 

Though the consequences of drinking are so terri- 
ble, yet when we turn to a certain class of drinkers, 
there is something ludicrous in their assumptions of 
importance and style, and their pride in being consid- 
ered connoisseurs of the various brands of liquors 
they consume. There is no class in this country so 
swhidled and humbugged as the wine and spirit 
drinkers; and the wonder of all is, that they know 
they are cheated. How many in this country do you 
suppose think for a moment that they are drinking 
what the label or brand on their bottle purports it to 
be? The gentleman who drinks his "fine old port" 
must know that there is more " fine old port " sold in 
'New York than there is made, purely from grapes, in 
all the region professedly the port-wine region. He 



294 TRANSPARENT HUMBUG. 

will submit to such barefaced swindling in reference 
to no other article he uses. 

I have good authority for this statement, that, 
^^Of the port shipped for the English market as 
vintage wine, from nine months to two years old, at 
least two-thirds is manufactured or adulterated in 
Oporto." 

In a book which I obtained with some difficulty, 
entitled " The Manufacture of Liquors, Wines, &c., 
without the aid of distillation, arranged and prepared 
expressly for the trade," the author says : " For bars, 
hotels, &c., the following directions will insure a sav- 
ing of from forty to two hundred and fifty per cent, 
per gallon, and the most critical examination will 
scarcely detect the genuine, a chemical test alone 
being able to indicate the difference of the one from 
the other." And again : " The great secret of success 
in the manufacture of liquor consists in imparting to 
the imitation the precise aroma of the genuine, and 
thus obtain an article as near reality as possible, at a 
far less cost." I give his list of articles used for the 
manufacture of these liquors. " I^eutral spirit : When 
alcohol is cleansed of grain-oil, it is then called neu- 
tral spirit. Tartaric, citric, and sulphuric acids, alum, 
amylic alcohol, or fusil-oil, heavy oil of wine, ammo- 
nia, ambergris, sweet and bitter almonds, oils of sweet 
and bitter almonds, cardamom, bone-black, namely, 
animals' bones burnt and ground, balsam of Peru, 
catechu, caustic potassa, cubebs, slippery-elm bark, 
eggs for fining, sulphuric, nitric, and butyric ether, 
flax-seed, grape-sugar, flour, gamboge, gentian, honey, 
molasses, oak-bark, oatmeal, long, cayenne, and black 
pepper, pellitory and grains of paradise (powerful 
acrimonious substances used for giving false strength 



IMPOETED COGNAC? 297 

to liquors), tinctures of musk and tolu, snake-root, 
sweet spirits of nitre, tea, quassia, olive-oil, oils of 
caraway, cloves, cedar, juniper, lavender, lemon, 
mace, rosemary, roses, sassafras and wintergreen, 
creosote and turpentine." These are all used for the 
manufacture of liquor; and for the coloring, the 
author gives " alkanet root, red beets, Brazil wood, 
cochineal, indigo, logwood, red sanders wood, and 
saffron." 

How absurd it is to see men drinking their cognac 
brandy and boasting of its purity, " for it is ' im- 
ported.' " I have before me a method for giving age 
to new casks, and branding barrels and casks with 
marks that are not exactly custom-house. Let us see 
how your brandy is made, though perhaps I should 
say other people's brandy. First, the French method, 
practised in France : 

" Clean spirit, containing 50 per cent, of alcohol, 100 gallons ; honey, 
7 gallons, dissolved in 3 gallons of water, having first bruised 1^ ounces 
-of cochineal and allowed it to macerate in the water for a few days. 
Then add 8 ounces of catechu, 5 gallons of rum, 12 ounces of acetic 
ether, then add clean burnt sugar ; color to suit the fancy or the particu- 
lar market it is intended for." 

This is your " pure " French imported cognac 
brandy. Now we will see how cognac is manufac- 
tured here: 

"25 gallons of whiskey, 14 gallons of water, 1 gallon tincture of pep- 
per, li gallons of strong tea, 6 drops of oil of orange dissolved in a wine- 
glass of alcohol, 1 pound of acetic ether ; color with burnt sugar or san- 
ders wood." Note : " This can be made at from 12 to 20 cents per gal- 
lon, according to the price of whiskey, 20 cents per gallon being the 
estimated price." 

Hurrah for the swindle! Who are the biggest 
fools, those who will not touch the stuff, or those 
who are cheated with their eyes open? 



298 "genttine champagne." 

Some prefer Schiedam schnapps to cognac. How 
is it made? 

" Common gin* 30 gallons, strained honey 4^ gallons, water 2 gal- 
lons, sulphuric acid 1 ounce, sweet spirits of nitre 8 ounces, spirit of 
nitric ether 3 ounces, 10 drops of oil of wintergreen dissolved in 2 ounces 
of acetic ether." 

The comment after the receipt, is, " Eeally a fine 
liquor, and cheaply made." When I observe gentle- 
men, and often ladies, ordering wine at the hotel, 
looking so very wisely over the list, and gravely 
choosing champagne as the most fashionable wine 
for drinking, I am very much inclined to laugh, 
while I am saddened at what may be the result of 
their folly. 

Champagne ! Let me give you a receipt for mak- 
ing champagne — genuine champagne ; for while you 
know there is more champagne bought, sold, and 
drank in New York than there is manufactured of the 
pure article in the world, you — whether at home or 
abroad, in Paris, London, Berlin, or New York — 
always obtain " genuine champagne." Here's the re- 
ceipt : 

" Fifty gallons of water, 2 gallons of honey, 5 ounces of bruised gin- 
ger, 5- ounces of ground mustard. Boil this mass 30 minutes, add a quart 
of yeast, and let it ferment from 10 to 14: days. Add 6 ounces of bitter 
almonds bruised, spirits and grains of paradise to suit convenience. The 
more spirit the champagne possesses the greater will be its body. For 
coloring, use cochineal half an ounce to the 50 gallons." 

There you have it, and in addition we have the 
direction for bottling, laying on the Dutch metal, and 



* The receipt for making common gin is 25 gallons of clear whiskey, 
water 10 gallons, oil of juniper dissolved in a gill of alcohol (sometimes 
a small portion of turpentine is added), 1 gallon of grains of paradise of 
double streno:th, fine, with alum. 



CATAWBA AND SHEERY. 299 

printing and placing the labels to prove that you get 
it pure and genuine, direct from any firm you choose 
to select. Oh, I forgot — for pink champagne add 
" a little more cochineal." 

"Ah," say you, "but I only drink viative wines, 
sparkling Catawba." Well, here you have it: 

** Receipt for Sparkling Catawba : — 100 pounds of raisins, 35 gallons of 
sweet cider, 100 gallons of water, 3 pints of yeast; ferment for 12 days; 
then add 12 gallons of honey, 12 gallons of clean spirit, 1 gi-ain of amber- 
gris rubbed well with 2 ounces of sugar ; then 4 gallons of Jamaica rum, 
12 ounces of orris-root, and fine the whole with 3 quarts of boiled milk 
added while hot." 

Very fine sparkling Catawba! 

" "Well," say some, " I only drink claret." Here you 



have the receipt; 



"Claret Vin de Bordeaux: — Five gallons of boiled cider, 2 gallons of 
spirit, 5 gallons of water, 2 ounces of powdered catechu, or 2 drops of 
sulphuric acid to the gallon to suit the taste. Color with tincture of log- 
wood." 

Do you prefer sherry? 

" Ten gallons of cider, 4 ounces of bitter almonds, 1 gallon of honey, 
4 ounces of mustard. Boil for 30 minutes ; then add one-half pint of 
spirit of orris7root, 2 ounces essence of cassia, 3 quarts of rum." 

Then we have this additional piece of information: 
" Jamaica rum is preferable, as this wine is often pre- 
pared for the auctions, but the amount of spirit be- 
comes an important item, owing to its cost; therefore 
when this is kept in view, tincture of grains of para- 
dise should be substituted for spirits." 

But here is the receipt for the port which is used so 
freely by the gentlemen of the old school, who " al- 
ways get the best," — the port prescribed so freely by 
physicians, who should not dare to tamper with any del- 
eterious substance without knowing something of the 



300 GOOD POET WINE. 

ingredients, and who are bound to get it pure, I only 
ask, when the country is flooded with such stuff as is 
sold for " port wine " (and the manufacturers whisper 
that we cannot tell the difference between that and 
the genuine), how do these doctors, who so freely 
prescribe, know what they give to their patients? I 
give you a receipt for making " good port wine " : 

" Twenty gallons of cider, 2 gallons of honey, 12 ounces of carbonate 
of soda, 1^ gallons strong tincture grains of paradise, 5 ounces of pow- 
dered catechu. Color w^ith logwood or burnt sugar. A small portion of 
spirit would improve it. The carbonate of soda is to neutralize the acid 
in the cider, which, if allowed to remain, would present too large a pro- 
portion of acid for good port." 

How careful they are that drinkers shall have '^good 
port!''\ 

In addition to these receipts, published "for the 
trade," are receipts for manufacturing seven kinds 
of brandy, besides the cognac, some of which might 
frighten you, seven kinds of whiskey, two kinds of 
gin, five kinds of rum, and ten different kinds of 
wine. 

Now, to the porter and ale drinkers we have some- 
thing to say. The following is a receipt for making 
porter: 

" Boil 3 quarts of wheat bran, IJ pounds of hops, and 8 ounces of 
bruised ginger, in 12 gallons of water, for one hour. Then strain 
through flannel, and, while warm, add 2 gallons of molasses, 1 quart of 
yeast, half a pint of brandy-coloring, and half a gallon of tincture of 
grains of paradise, which will be formed by digesting 8 ounces of the 
grain in half a gallon of whiskey." 

If you prefer ale, here's a receipt: 

" 4 pounds of brown sugar, 1 pound of hops, 2 ounces of quassia, and 
12 gallons of water. Boil for three-quarters of an hour. Then add 1 
gallon of molasses, 1 pint of yeast, and continue the fermentation until 
the froth ceases to rise on the surface. Then add half a gallon of tine- 



BOTTLED ALE. 301 

ture of grains of paradise, and strain through flannel. Add 3 ounces of 
butyric ether, and boil immediately y 

To avoid the costly price of hops, the small dealer 
of ale and porter, as a substitute for the bitter of the 
hops, makes use of quassia, nux vomica, or strych- 
nine, aloes, catechu, pellitory, long pepper, worm- 
wood, gentian; and for a false strength similar to 
alcohol, uses cocculus indicus, copperas, and grains of 
paradise. 

The following receipt for giving strength and body 
to beer and ale is given: 

" 2 pounds of quassia, 2 pounds of gentian bruised, 1 pound of aloes, 
10 gallons of water. Boil to 5 gallons. Then add 1 pound of copperas, 
and boil to 4 gallons. Add this to the ale to suit the taste." 

I will conclude with the following interesting state- 
ment to the uninitiated : " It may be necessary to state, 
for the benefit of the uninitiated reader, when and how 
this kind of porter and ale is disposed of to form a re- 
munerative investment. This consists in bottling and 
labelling this fluid with neatness. The labels should 
be obtained from the lithographers, and should be ex- 
ecuted in the highest style of art. The same articles 
are sold under the names of London porter, Scotch 
ale, India pale ale, pineapple ale, &c., &c.; and the 
ale receives all the names of the different varieties of 
that article that have acquired any celebrity in com- 
merce. The bottles are packed in barrels or boxes, 
and are disposed of at auction. This ale is usually 
manufactured at a cost varying from four to eight 
cents per gallon." 

"It is not an unusual occurrence in commerce to 
meet with porter (or so called) that has been made 
from the fermentation of molasses, yeast, and water. 



302 POISONED PORTER. 

This, after becoming sufficiently acidulated from fer- 
mentation, has the further progress of the fermenta- 
tion checked by the addition of alcohol, and a small 
portion of ground mustard-seed. It is then strength- 
ened with aloes, pellitory, pepper, quassia, catechu, 
and burnt sugar, and has a rough, bitter, acidulous 
taste, and leaves a disagreeable after-taste in the 
mouth." 

A gentleman writes me: "About a year ago, a 
dealer in paints told me that a man came in to pur- 
chase sugar of lead. He had none, except some that 
was rather dirty, which he alluded to. The purchaser 
said it would suit his purpose; he did not want it to 
mix with paints as a dryer, but to sweeten sour 
wine." • 

1^0 w, to what end is this revelation? "What effect 
will it produce? Yery little, if any, to prevent 
some men and women from drinking. Those who 
have the appetite, and are determined to gratify it, 
will not be deterred from drinking by a knowledge 
of the poison or the nastiness of the liquor which 
they crave. Mei^ have been known to drink alcohol 
out of bottles containing specimens of vile things, 
snakes, scorpions, &c.; have been known to drink 
the spirits in which a corpse has been washed; to 
drink camphor, cologne, camphine, anything however 
vile, offensive, or filthy, containing the alcohol to 
start the stagnant blood in the diseased vessels of 
the stomach. 

Many who are the slaves of fashion, who drink be- 
cause they are afraid to refuse, will pooh, pooh, such 
revelations, and profess not to believe ; and so all that 
we can say, all the flood of light that can be thrown 
on the subject, fails to convince sufficiently to induce 



WAEiT, e:n^treat, save. 303 

the people to abstain. So the manufacturer and 
dealer, rolling in his wealth, or striving to make 
money, can laugh us to scorn in all our attempts to 
reveal the truth to the victims either of appetite or 
custom. But whether men hear, or whether they 
forbear, God helping us, we shall do our best to 
warn, entreat, and save. 



CHAPTEK XXI. 



SOME OF MY EXPERIENCES WITH BRAZEN-FACED 
PEOPLE. 

The Life of a Public Man — Peculiar Annoyances — Kind Treatment of 
the Press — " Interviewing " — An Unfortunate Little Notice — "John 
B. Gough lying dangerously ill " — Mistakes in reporting Lectures — 
Amusing Specimen — Applications for Help — Begging Letter- Writ- 
ers — Tramps preferable to these — Extracts from Begging-Letters — 
Young Man's Strange Request for Fifteen Hundred Dollars — Re- 
quest for One Thousand Dollars — What the Lord is reported to have 
said — One Thousand Dollars wanted to educate two Nieces — "I am 
taken in" — Notes and Promises to Pay — A New Method — A Cu- 
rious Plan of Professionals — Begging " Mediums " — Letter purport- 
ing to come from my Mother — An Incident in Scotland. 



HERE is in the life of a public man, es- 
pecially of one who is constantly before 
the people, a monotony of change, when 
the necessity for constant travel be- 
comes exceedingly wearisome, and the 
mere thought of rest is a comfort. Still 
there are compensations in the knowl- 
^■^ edge that your aim is>to make men better, 
and that you are not absorbed in the selfish 
ambition that seeks your own, independent of other's 
welfare; and again, in the delightful associations that 
ripen into life-long friendships, and the companion- 
ship of the good, the true, and the pure — the very 
nobility of humanity. 

Every public man is often exposed to annoyances, 

304 




LIBEBAI.ITY OF THE PRESS. 305 

some serious in themselves; some more trifling, yet 
serious in their results; vfhile others are almost im- 
perceptible to sight or touch, like the red bug of the 
south, inserting its almost infinitesimal self under 
the skin to irritate and inflame; or the mosquito of 
the north, that persistently hums his defiance in your 
ear, till you wish he would 5^Ye, and end the music. 

In speaking of annoyances, I have no desire to 
complain; but if the relation of some of them may 
induce any who unintentionally annoy to be more 
thoughtful, this will not be a wasteful expenditure of 
time or paper. 

Far be it from me to criticise or speak unldndly of 
the press, for I have been most Idndly treated by 
newspapers for thirty-eight years. Seldom in all that 
time have I received an unfair criticism from any re- 
spectable paper, much less any personal injustice. I 
have been criticised, and occasionally with a sharpness 
that made me wince; but I have endeavored to profit 
by every criticism, so far as has been in my power. 
Every public man must acknowledge to have been 
occasionally treated unfairly by one portion of the 
press, that can hardly lay claim to respectability. In 
the United States and in Great Britain, most kind 
and liberal notices have been given of my work, 
although I have never asked for a notice ; and only 
twice in thirty years have I been in an editor's office, 
besides having never once sent a press-notice to the 
committees employing me, though often urged to do 
so. All the kind notices — and they have been many 
— have been entirely voluntary on the part of the 
press, and never sought by me. 

One annoyance is experienced in the system of 
interviewing. No statement made of a man's per- 
19 



306 AN mTERYIEWEE. 

sonal history or opinions should ever be published, 
without submitting it to his perusal and revision; for 
one word, either in addition or subtraction, may make 
a tremendous difference in the whole meaning. 

I remember but one occasion when I could fairly 
state that I was interviewed, and then I was so sadly 
misrepresented that it made a former friend a strong 
enemy, and put me so wrongly before a large section 
of temperance reformers, that I have not been fully 
righted up to the present time. 

A gentleman called on me at the hotel where I was 
stopping, in a "Western city. The conversation was 
in substance this: 

" I wish to get your opinion on the women's tem- 
perance crusade. What do you think of it? " 

" I have seen scarcely anything of it, and am not 
qualified to give an opinion without further knowl- 
edge of the work. From what I have heard, I should 
judge it to be a new departure which promises to 
wake the people up to some interest on the ques- 
tion." 

" "What do you think of the women praying and 
singing in the street?" 

" "With regard to that, I am rather dubious, and 
should hardly like to give any opinion. I have not 
seen that phase of the women's work; but it seems to 
me I should hardly like to see my wife or sister 
singing and praying in the saloons, or in the public 
streets." 

" Do you not think Mr. is a mere sensation- 
alist? " 

" As to that, I can only say I have not the dread of 
sensationalism that afilicts many very good people. I 
think we need something to waken us up ; and I do 



rN^COREECT STATEMEITT. 307 

not object to, but rather welcome, some excitement. 
I certainly prefer a little sensationalism to the dull, 
heavy apathy, that is so hard to interest. As for 

Mr. 's sensationalism, I know nothing about it. 

I believe he has been very enthusiastic in his advo- 
cacy of the women's crusade." 

This, I think, was all I said of importance; and 
when I saw in the morning paper the report of the 
interview, I felt my cheek burn, for I at once saw that 
it would put me in a false light before the people who 
might read it, and was an injustice to a man who was 
my friend. This was the report of the interview: 

" Mr. Gough is not very much in favor of the 
women's crusade. "With regard to the praying and 
singing in the streets, Mr. Gough would not like to see 
his wife or sister doing such work;^ and his opinion is 
that Mr. is a mere sensationalist." 

I received many letters of inquir}^, and found my- 
self compelled publicly to take a position decidedly 
for or against the women's work; and after becom- 
ing acquainted with and interested in it, attending 
some of their meetings, I was rejoiced most emphati- 
cally to approve their efforts, which I did continually 
in every speech, when I could consistently introduce 
it. The mistake of the " interviewer " caused me 
some annoyance. 

On another occasion, the wrong done to me, or 
perhaps I should say, the inconvenience to which I 
was subjected, arose from an incorrect statement made 
to an interviewer by a gentleman who I know would 
never willingly have caused me any annoyance ; and 
if his statement had been submitted to me, I would 
gladly have revised it; but the article was extensively 
published, with no revision. Several of the answers 



308 EESULTS OF MISTAKES. 

to the interviewer's questions were quite correct, some 
of them shghtly incorrect, but of no material conse- 
quence; but there was one assertion that was made 
on no authority but a supposition, that "John B. 
Gough has an annuity, and is worth $100,000;" — a 
statement of no particular importance to any one; to 
me it would have been very gratifying if true; but 
the fact is, I have no annuity, and am not worth in 
available property one-half the sum stated. 
"Well, how can such a report injure you?" 
Only by the annoyance of being compelled to refuse 
applicants for help. They have come, since that item 
was published, from all quarters of this country, from 
persons who never saw me, from remote places I have 
never visited, and for sums varying from $1,200 to 
" what you think you can afford." These applications 
are generally prefaced by the announcement that they 
have read in the papers so and so. The item was 
published in an English paper; and from the other 
side of the Atlantic I have received several appli- 
cations for help on the ground of being possessor of 
£20,000 and an annuity. On another page I shall 
speak fully, and give my opinion of these beggars. 

At one time, in the midst of a season's work, I was 
taken ill at Scranton, Pa. The physician said it was 
a severe cold, and I must rest a few days, or it might 
develop into pneumonia. So I gave up two appoint- 
ments, and remained in Scranton from Friday till 
Tuesday. On Wednesday I commenced work again; 
and, while travelling to an appointment on the Thurs- 
day, saw in a daily paper this item of news : " John 
B. Gough is lying dangerously ill at Scranton." 
That small item cost me several dollars, and gave me 
much annoyance. First came the telegrams to the 



A^nsrOYI^G MISTAKES. 309 

Bureau, inquiring if I should be able to meet my en- 
gagements, or would they furnish another lecturer in 
my place; then letters to me forwarded from gcran- 
ton; and in several instances I was told on my arrival 
at the town to fill my appointment, " We cannot sell 
the tickets, for the people do not believe you will 
come, as the item stating your illness has been copied 
into our paper; and we must get out extra handbills 
announcing your arrival, and that you v/ill lecture 
this evening." Thus that unfortunate little notice 
plagued me, and diminished my audiences for more 
than a week. 

I mention one other annoyance, and that may be 
considered a very small one, — but the small things 
are sometimes the most perplexing, — just as a small 
hair in the nostril will irritate worse than a pain, and 
the tickle of a feather may cause convulsions if per- 
severed in, and a drop of water constantly falling on 
the head may produce madness. I refer to the mis- 
takes in reporting what is said in a lecture, very often 
quite absurd — so much so that no possible harm can 
be done by them. At other times the mistake in a 
word may completely alter the tone or meaning of 
the whole sentence, and we are reported as stating 
views directly the opposite of our convictions and 
former utterances. 

But some things, to use the 'New England expres- 
sion, " are too funny for anything." I give you one 
from a report of a five-columns speech in an English 
paper. I had said : 

" Come with me to the Yosemite Valley. Yonder stands El Capitan, 
a mile away ; it seems so near you could strike it with a stone. Approach 
it nearer — nearer. How it grows and widens and looms up ! Nearer yet 
— nearer. See those shi-ubs! Shrubs? They are trees, one hundi-ed feet 
in height and three to four feet in diameter. See that dent in the face of 



310 RIDICULOUS REPORT. 

the rock. That is a fissure seventy -five feet deep. Soon you stand un- 
der the shadow of El Capitan. A plumb line from the summit will fall 
fifty feet from its base. I^ow look up — up — up — thirty-six hundred 
feet right up. How grand! Two-thirds of a mile. A perpendicular 
rock. There it stands, anchored in the valley, seared and seamed with 
the storms of centuries. Your nerves thrill, your lips quiver, and your 
eyes fill with tears. You are impressed with the grandeur and sublimity 
of the magnificent surroundings. You feel your own littleness, that you 
are but as the small dust of the balance in comparison, and remember 
that the inhalDitants of the earth are but as grasshoppers in His sight, 
who is the great Creator." 

This is a description not worth much perhaps, but 
it is better than the report which I copy from the 
paper that hes before me: 

"Come with me to the great Yosemill Valley in California. The 
land will rise before you miles and miles away. But approach it nearer 
and nearer. How the land looms up before you ! See in the distance a 
shrub. • No ; it is a tree, twenty feet high and three or four feet in diame- 
ter. Come nearer yet. There's a dent yonder. No ; it is a fissure in the 
rock seventy-five feet deep. There is El Capo, thirty-six hundred feet 
from the base to the summit. Stand and look up at the inhabitants on 
the top of it, and they appear no bigger than grasshoppers, and the peo- 
ple look down on you as the small dust of the balance." 

That is verbatim. In the same report were sev- 
eral absurd things, but this was the most ridiculous. 

Another annoyance is the increasing number of 
begging letter-writers. When in England twenty- 
five years ago I boasted that I knew nothing in 
America of the system of writing begging-letters, so 
prominent there ; but I really think we can now fairly 
challenge competition in that line with any country in 
the world. I rather think it is an imported nuisance 
and not indigenous to the soil of America. 

A tramp who comes to my house and tells me he 
wants food or money, or help of any kind, is prefera- 
ble to the whining, begging letter- writer. The tramps 
are not half so rasping to me as is the writer of a let- 
ter from which I give an extract : 



BEGGrN^a LETTERS. 311 

" Having heard that you were a very benevolent man, and knowing 
you were not a poor man, for I saw it stated in the paper the other day 
the amount of yoilr income, I make bold to ask you a favor. My folks 
are respectable, though not very well off, and I wish to go to a music 
school for three years. My father has a rich uncle, whom I wrote to 
help me, but he thought himself too poor. The cost will be 500 dol- 
lars a year. I wish you would send me a check for 500 dollars for three 
years, or a check at once for 1500 dollars. Pardon my boldness, but I 
do so much wish to go, etc., etc. 

*'P. S. — A check payable to bearer." 

I will not copy long extracts, but give a few of the 
eases. One writes: 

" You talk of serving the Lord. You will serve Him by helping me. 
I want $1000 to get a home." 

Another : 

"I asked the Lord where I should get $100, and He whispered your 
name. Now if you go to the Lord, perhaps He'll tell you to send it 
to me." 

Another : 

"If you only knew how happy $100 would make me, you would send 
it, for you are abundantly able." 

Again : 

" I want $1000 to educate two nieces, and I write to you." 

* 

The most annoying class among the so-called re- 
spectable beggars are those who apply to you person- 
ally, and by appeals to your sympathy obtain money 
they never mean to repay. 

A young American in England begged me to lend 
him £10 for a passage home. He could be sent home 
by steerage, but he could not endure a steerage pas- 
sage; spoke of his relatives, and said, "I can give 
you an order on my mother." The money was lent 
and two pounds additional for some comforts for the 
voyage. The order on his mother was given. I have 
it now. When the gentleman reached this country he 
had the coolness to write me not to present the order 



312 NEVER MEAN TO PAY. 

to his mother, as it would be of no use, for she had no 
money, and that is the last of that transaction. Over 
and over again have I declared I will lend no more 
money to persons unknown to me; but they make 
such fair promises that I think " this must be a real 
case," and, like Mr. Hartop, '' I am taken in." 

These people, many of them, never intend to repay. 
I write as a sufferer ; for from 1845, when they began 
on me, till now, the game has been going on, — a 
losing one for me, for I have notes and promises to 
pay to an amount that would hardly be believed of 
one in my circumstances. All I can say is, that the 
amount might be put down in five figures, and the 
figure five at the head of the sum, not one penny of 
which amount do I ever expect to receive; for of all 
the loans I have made — and they are hundreds — 
I have received only in four or five cases the amounts 
borrowed. 

I would not utter one word to discourage the benev- 
olent in giving to real objects of charity, for I have 
given freely to such; but it is the regular harpy who 
thrives on the benevolence of those who possess 
means, or it is the young man — and the number of 
this class is increasing — who depends, not on his 
own exertions, but on the help he can obtain from 
others, for a start in life. The whining cry, " I want 
a little help," from able-bodied, healthy young men 
who are not ready to endure hardship and some pri- 
vation to make their way in the world, is contemptible. 
I sometimes think of adopting a plan to shame these 
beggars, if they have any shame left; and that is, to 
publish in a pamphlet the letters, with their names, 
and circulate it through the country, and offer their 
notes for sale at a discount. 



ATTENDED TO " IMMEGERTELY." 313 

A very curious plan adopted by some of these pro- 
fessionals is to take advantage of the credulity of 
their intended victims. I give portions of a letter 
received, purporting to come from my mother, who 
has been dead forty years. 

Poor, dear woman ! she has forgotten how to spell, 
for she writes that this letter is to be attended to 
" immegertely : " 

" John, I, your mother, can speak to you through a 
medium in Bath, Maine." (She seems to have learned 
something of geography ; for when she was a denizen 
of this earth, I doubt if she knew there was such a 
place as the above.) "You and this medium are 
strangers ; but if you will come to her, my dear boy, 
I can convince you that I still live to enjoy my son's 
prosperity." (]^o necessity to go to Maine to know 
that the dear mother lives.) " Do not think or believe 
your mother does not help you and bear you up," 
&c., &c. "John, my son, fear not; God has given 
you great gifts, and He has given great gifts to the 
one I am controlling to-day. I wish you would help 
her to come out of her poor condition she is in. If 
you knew what a gem she is, I know you would help 
her. Come and see me. I, your mother, send this. 
Come and talk to me through this medium. If you 
feel disposed to help her, do. From your mother to 
John." 

This reminds me of an incident that occurred in 
Scotland some years ago. 

I was on the platform of a railway station waiting, 
with my wife, for a train, when a gentleman ap- 
proached me, looking very solemn, and said, rather 
lugubriously : 



314 "we had a seance." 

" Mr. Gough, we have had a communication from 
your dear mother." 

"My mother?" I said; "why, she has been dead 
these twenty years." 

" Yes," he said ; " she is in the spirit land, and oh, 
so happy! Would you not like to hear her mes- 
sage?" 

" That depends; how did you get your message?" 

" We had a seance last evening, and communicated 
with your dear mother. Would you not like to hear 
her message?" 

"~Eq) I want to hear nothing about it. If my 
mother, who knows I love her dearly and treasure 
every little relic she left behind her, and who knows 
that I would be glad to see her and hear her speak, 
will not communicate with me except through me- 
diums, and seances, and table-rappings by a parcel of 
people who know nothing about her and care as little, 
I do not wish to hear anything; for I think my mother 
must be deteriorated to descend to such tricks to 
communicate with one who loves her as well as I do." 



CHAPTEE XXII. 



AMUSING EXPERIENCES WITH LETTER- WRITERS, 
BEGGARS, AND ASPIRANTS EOR EAJVIE. 



Letter- Writers and their Wants — A Lady "wishes to get married;" 
full Particulars — Specimen of a Class of Oddities — What "the 
Simple Son of a Carpenter " desires — An Unappreciated Benefactor 
of his Country — A "Big Thing" to be accomplished — Applications 
for Old Lectures — The Ambitious Young Man with a "Hobby" — 
An Asj)irant for Fame — Newspaper Man wishes two "Worn-out" 
Lectures — Request for a "Moddle" Lecture — Receipt for a "Mod- 
die" Lecture — A Few Hints to the Ambitious — Requests for Auto- 
graphs — Levying Black-mail — Take Warning — Dr. Chalmers on 
Autographs — Demand for Photographs — " Very like a Bore " — Not 
limited to Friends — Comical Arrangements of these Pictures — Side 
by Side with the Gorilla. 

UBLIC men are liable to receive com- 
munications containing inquiries on all 
kinds of topics, asking questions on all 
Idnds of abstruse subjects, or making 
the most absurd propositions. I give a 
portion of a letter I received from a 
lady: 

" I will state my circumstances and wishes as briefly 
as possible. I come to the point at once, and inform you 
that I wish to get man-ied, and I hope you will think none the worse of 
me for thus making my wants known to one who must have a large 
circle of acquaintances, like yourself. When a lady finds her hair fast 
becoming threads of silver, and the crow's-feet deepening in her face, it 
is time for her to begin to look out for herself, if she would not spend her 
declining days in loneliness, 'unloved and unloving,' — a prospect that 

315 




316 "l WA^T TO GET MARRIED." 

I do not at all relish, unless I find that it be God's will. If so, I must 
make the best of it. I am thirty-five years of age ; very unprepossessing 
in appearance, having a dark complexion, plain, sad features ; only four 
feet ten inches in height; weight ninety to ninety-eight pounds; and 
health quite variable, still good. Physicians have told me that I am 
just as likely to live forty years as any one. 

" My father's home is in , away back in the country, where there 

is not a gentleman of my acquaintance that I would marry, even if 
they wished to marry me. I wish to get a kind, honest man, about fifty 
jeavs of age, possessing common intelligence and refinement, and at 
least property sufiicient to take care of himself and me ; and he must be 
between fort3"-five and sixty-five years of age, and a total-abstinence 
man ; Avidower preferred ; also one who would care more for home and 
wife than society. And I, on my part, think I could be a true and 
aftectionate wife, capable of managing a household, and willing to dress 
and live either in a plain and economical style, or luxuriously, as our 
mutual views and circumstances might seem to require 

"And now, if you know of any gentleman that answers to my descrip- 
tion who would like to make my acquaintance with a view to matri- 
mony, -please furnish him with an introduction and recommend from 
yourself, and I shall be happy to commence the acquaintance at once, 
either by correspondence or personally." .... 

After giving references, the lady requests that — 

" If you write them concerning me, I beg you will sign a fictitious 
name, for they would think it about as wild in me to write to you as it 
would be to write to the King of France. I trust, should you be so for- 
tunate as to bring about an acquaintance between two temperance 
people, that it will be so managed that the part I have taken in it may 
be kept a profound secret. Should you aid me in this matter, I presume 
that in time you will be rewarded. Yours faithfully, ." 

I give extracts from a series of queer letters re- 
ceived from a gentleman, as a specimen of a class of 
oddities with whom we have to deal. He first pro- 
poses an interview. 

"Dear Friend Gough: The lecturing field, which is white already 
to harvest, /, the uneducated, unsophisticated, simple son of a carpenter 
of the nineteenth century, conscious of the powers that are in me, am 
desirous of entering. You have had a large experience therein, and may 
render me valuable aid in tlie way of advice, hints, and suggestions ; and 
may possibly point me to an opening, if you will thus kindly volunteer 



PROSPECTS AND POSSIBILITIES. 317 

your services on my behalf, provided it can be done without discommod- 
ing yourself, or hindering your own work. If I could see you at your 
own home when you have leisure, or some other place you might ap- 
point, and have with you some half dozen or so of your lecturing or 
literary friends, I would in an unembarrassed manner, or as much so as 
possible, read to you a couple of lectures that I have in my possession, 
and shall remodel, entitled, one of them, ' Our Countiy and its Brilliant 
Prospects and Possibilities.' This lecture is descriptive of the country, 
and of the people, and of some of their great interests, and one more espe- 
cial than the rest, their mining interests. And its peroration is a glow- 
ing description of the grandeur and glory that surely awaits the American 
people, if they only retain in each other unbounded confidence, and exer- 
cise patience and perseverance in all well-doing, and the wealthy out of 
their abundance see to it that the destitute and the helpless are provided 
for until business can be started. Friend Gough, we must marshal ' the 
hosts of God's elect' from the four quarters of the earth, i. e.,the eloquent 
orators and reformers of the day, and exorcise the evil and ultra spirits 
that run so many off into a tangent of weird, wild fanaticism, and clothe 
them in their right mind, and show them their proper sphere. Then 
we'll evolve out of the present miserable chaos, harmony. Yes, this ive 
must do. And in so doing, we will fuse the wills' of the American people 
into one. This work accomplished, this nation then shall demonstrate 
itself to all the world as the chosen people of God, to still continue lead- 
ing on civilization, science, art, invention, philosophy, government, 
poetry, commerce, agriculture ; and above all, the noblest aspirations and 
highest aims in each individual of the nation, after purity of life and 
character, and an increasing intelligence, that shall know no stopping- 
place, as we avail ourselves each for himself of a careful perusal of the 
life and characters in their biography of the illustrious of all ages. TJiat 
in that very act, their virtue, intelligence, lofty principle, and exalted 
aims may from them, who being dead (yet thus to us speak, come, or), 
flow into us as their living spirit through the dead letter that in or by 
others as a substitute they have left behind for us. And in this way, as 
the American people, we shall render ourselves and the continent and our 
institutions as the true Archimedean lever that shall lift a world from its 
degradation." 

Soon after the receipt of this letter, I received an- 
other, from which I give the following extracts: 

" Friend Gough : I must see you if I can, and shake hands with you, 
and look you in the eye, and listen to the tones of your voice in your own 
home, and if you have time, to read two lectures that I have. I have a 
mission to accomplish. The American people must be quickened into a 
higher life, into a closer unity, a stronger sociality, a deeper feeling of 



318 Bia THD^a o^ ice. 

interest in each other's welfare. The conscience, the enthusiasm, the as- 
pirations, and the will of the nation needs at this particular juncture 
greatly quickening, needs fusing into one, and ilxnning into a red heat, 
that the exalted destiny of the nation may, in the right direction, be 
speedily carried forward; that genuine intelligence and virtue, and a 
true love of art, and science, political economy, literature, agriculture, 
commerce, finance, philosophy, invention, and all that tends to promote 
a high and true state of social unity, may be promoted. And we indeed 
become the chosen people of God to redeem the earth — the Archimedean 
lever to lift the world from its degradation. We want to rid ourselves 
from all undue love of fishion, and pride, and aristocratic notions; 
from false ornament, and an excessive love of wealth, purely for a dis- 
play ; and seek to be giants in virtue and intelligence, in invention, art, 
science, and philosophy. Now, this is a big thing on ice to be accom- 
plished. Of course it is. ' But there is a flood taken at the tide leads 
on to fortune.' ' There is a fulness of times ' that in nations every now 
and then happens. There is a period when the pear is ripe, and must 
fall. Tliere are individuals who, like Timothy, inherit from their mother 
Lois, and grandmother Eunice, an unusual quantity and element of the 
true Promethean fire direct from the throne of the third heavens, so to 
speak, and who have the metal that constitutes an intellectual and moral 
battery, marvellous in its capacities to become highly surcharged; who 
have an ocean of enthusiasm, emotion, sensibilit}^ and a corresponding 
voice of tone, modulation, flexibility, pathos, power, unction, and thrill- 
ing sensation that all rivets attention, and quickens feeling, and kindles 
3,nd brightens in the soul of every one that listens aspirations after a 
higher, holier, purer, truer life of virtue and intelligence. There is 
every now and then a Peter the hermit, that comes forth from a life of 
austerities to wrap the continent in a blaze; a character simple-hearted, 
earnest, and burning with a zeal to see all men united in an indissoluble 
band of brotherhood, and genuine heartfelt fellowshi|), to see sorrow and 
suffering depart if we will. 

" I am in my 4:9th year ; the youngest son of a carpenter ; was born of 
respectable parents in a beautiful valley between two mountains. Inher- 
ited a delicate constitution, and throughout nearly my whole life have been 
much afflicted. In my young days I suffered from a seven years' spinal 
disease, and from the terrible effects of that broken-do-\vn constitution 
have never fully recovered ; have had, in addition, many serious seasons 
of sickness ; came once near dying Math a typhoid fever, and once with 
two large carbuncles and a succession of boils, covering a great portion 
of the body ; have had the itch, and have been 1 — y ; and have had almost 
countless colds and curious fevers, indigestion, pain of back and kidneys, 
sore eyes, sleepless nights, and rush of blood to the head. Have been 
from early youth wonderfully exercised in mind over the tangled snarl 
of theological, philosophical, metaphysical, social, political, agricultural. 



IMBIBE LIKE A SPOIN^GE. 319 

commercial, scientific, inventive, and artistic problems of the race, that 
irom birth have confronted me in every conceivable direction, and that 
still in a great measure do confront me with curious wonderment and 
profound questionings, but through which of late I begin more clearly to 
see • and as I earnestly gaze, the clouds scatter, and the cheering rays of 
a celestial sun reach me, and the heavens are spanned with a rainbow of 
hope that brings peace and assurance to the soul, and bliss unutterable to 
the whole man. The waters of trouble are subsiding and sinking into 
the porous soil beneath my feet, and my tread is felt to be solid as I touch 
terra Jirma; and I am assuming the air and aspect of a conqueror that 
approaches the burnished spires and gleaming turrets of- the celestial 
city, and coming streaming in the sunlight upon his eager vision^ 
through an atmosphere redolent with the odor of exquisite flowers and 
ambrosia." 

I will omit the remaining portion of this letter. My 
wife wrote to him that I should probably be away from 
home at the time he proposed calling on me ; and even 
if I should not be, I was so busily engaged that I 
could give him but very little time, and therefore I 
thought it would hardly pay him to travel so many 
miles for so small a result. I give you his reply. 
After stating that the letter was received, he says : 

"This lettQr of M. E. Gough gives me an insight into the life of my 
friend Gough that I had not until now been as fully impressed with. Can 
it be possible, dear friend Gough, that your time and attention is thus 
completely occAipied, absorbed, and that you are being driven, as it were, 
with a whirlwind of duties from the face of the earth? Oh, my God of 
Infinite Majesty, love and truth! la tliis the natural consequence of suc- 
cess? Why, I start back in horror at the thought! A man is not happy 
until he gets at that that he has a faculty for, and then because he can 
do that thing well, forsooth must everybody hunt him down as though he 
were a wild hyena? Now I do most earnestly protest against all- this non- 
sense that we have got agoing on upon this planet. The fact of it is 
that our American people want to be preached and preached and preached, 
and lectured and lectured and lectured to, until they are preached and 
lectured to death and the devil ; and get to be as lazy as they can stick 
in their hides, morally and intellectually lazy. They want to imbibe 
and imbibe and imbibe, like a huge sponge, and give nothing forth. In 
a word, they have become moral and intellectual misers, moral and intel- 
lectual effeminates, babies, great grown calves, who will liave you con- 
tinually a-chewing their food for them, putting it into their mouths and 
a-wabbling their jaws, and a-rubbing their blood into circulation, and 



320 SHANGHAI SHYSTERS. 

thus ever keeping them babies that can communicate nothing. Now I 
move that we go to work to stop this thing, in order to save our public 
teachers from the most abject drudgery, slavery, oppression, tyranny, 
cruelty. Who wants to succeed as an orator if he must be hounded off 
of the face of the earth by the public, who can't talk themselves because 
they are two infernal lazy to make the effort? Do you know that such 
a state of things, if I was a successful orator, would make me as indig- 
nant as the prophet Elijah! Well, you can just bet your life it would, 
and I know full well that I'd have to hold as tight fast to my old arm- 
chair as I could to keep from going off half-cocked, a-cussing like a blue 
streak. Well, you see, the idea is just this : When men and women have 
read and listened for a long time to earnest teachers and books, they 
should be able to communicate their ideas as well as the next one. They 
should have become splendid conversationalists. What has God given 
them a tongue for? There is plenty around them steeped in ignorance, 
who labor under such disadvantages of birth, education, and circum- 
stances of poverty, that they can't find out what is for the best for them 
in hardly anything ; and these lazy imbibers of knowledge and oratory 
can do nothing for these poor souls, who are as sheep without a shepherd 
because they won't put forth a solitary effort to waggle their own tongues 
glibly as they might, if they would only give themselves that practice 
that makes perfect ; but they must go on oppressing, and make unright- 
eous demands upon the public orators of the day until they push them 
into the grave. The idea of a public's inexoi'ably demanding of its ora- 
tors to go on, go on, keep right on, pandering to their great big morbid 
mouth and unnatural appetite for sweetmeats that false custom has given 
them, just because they (the orators) have cultivated with success their 
oratorical powers. I don't see the point, and I wouldn't see the point 
had I climbed to the very highest summit of success. No, sir! 'All 
that a man hath will he give for his life.' 'Necessity knows no law.' 
All institutions were made for men, not to defeat their own object and 
crush men. If there is anything on earth that would come any nearer 
(than this crushing of my soul, brain, and body) to making me fall from 
grace, I don't know what it could be. The idea that a gi-eat set of grown 
calves and baby imbeciles who were too lazy or too proud to use their 
own tongues should want me to talk myself to death ! Now do you know 
that I couldn't be put upon that way : my wrath would boil over when 
such animals came after me, and ten chances to one, as good-natured as 
I generally am, if I wouldn't suddenly forget myself and bawl out before 
I knew it, 'Go to — Huckleberry Hill! you infernal, lazy scoundrels! 
You think my stomach 's lined with copper, and my throat with brass, 
and my lungs with iron, do you ? WeU, if you don't, you act as though 
you did. Mercy is not in your vocabulary or creed ; you don't seem to 
know anything about such an article ; with you it's one of the lost arts. 
Well, I'll kick a little into you, you unmerciful Shanghai Shysters !'.... 
I had thought of getting you to help me to get started as a lecturer, 



FORTY rN" MIND. 321 

for I am burning up with the burden of a mission. But, O heavens! 
I now start back amazed at the thought. I would like to see you, and 
have a pleasant chat with you," etc., etc. 

I suppose every lecturer has applications for his old 
lectures, but probably very few are applied to for their 
name. Here is an aspirant for fame, who desires to 
gather inspiration and gain a name at the same time. 
He says: 

"Is there a chance of my making arrangements to travel with you? 
I want to lecture, and I must be a good one or none at all. I do it for 
charity's sake more than money. I have some written lectures on hand. 
I am only twenty-two years in age, but forty in mind. I wish to travel 
with you, and adopt your name and style, and perpetuate it. I am very 
ambitious, and it would save me twenty years' hard labor if I could get 

an introduction through you My hobby is to be a lecturer. My 

phrenology says I would make a good lecturer. I am a good composer ; 
will give you all particulars when I receive your answer. Excuse haste. 
Please give this your kind attention. I should like to take your place 
as you are turning over the last page of your life perhaps. In haste. 
Yours, &c." 

Yery flattering ! 

A gentleman writes that he is about to start a news- 
paper, and shall commence canvassing for it, and if he 
could deliver lectures as he passed through the coun- 
try, it would be a help to him. Would I send him two 
of my worn-out lectures, as they would be fresh in 
the region in which he should canvass, and I should 
never want them any more, and he will never let any 
one know they are mine ! Flattering again ! 

Another writes for a " moddle lecture." He says : 

" Being in need of a moddle lecture, I send to you for assistance. My 
request is, that you will please compose a moddle lecture from the extracts 
of your old lectures, and give it a subject— a lecture that will take about 
one hour to repeat it. I have heard of no man that can tie a lecture to- 
gether with choice anecdotes such as you can, and indeed, sir, eloquence 
has distilled her choicest nectar upon your lips. I have spoken several 
times on temperance. If you wish any recommendations as to charac- 
ter, apply," etc., etc. 

20 



322 THAT REMINDS ME. 

JSTow, as to a " moddle lecture," I hardly know how 
to prepare one. I will here give a few hints to any 
who may be fired with the same ambition. Yom^ sub- 
ject might be "Reminders." You can introduce it 
by stating briefly or at length, according to the time 
you have, that for a conversation it is necessary to start 
a theme, and then all is easy. Describe a company of 
people sitting dull and silent, with nothing to say; 
no subject to interest them. How shall they engage 
in a stirring game of conversation? Let some one 
tell a story, no matter what it is, and it will be sure to 
remind some one of the company of something else. 
There you are, — " that reminds me " of a man who 
had but one story, and that was about a gun. He would 
impatiently watch, when in company, for a chance to 
repeat his story. When all was still, he would let fall 
a book, or stamp with his feet, then start and say: 
" Oh dear, how it startled me ! It reminded me of a 
gun. Talking of guns, ^reminds me,'" — and then 
came the story. 

"This story of a gun reminds me of a famous 
hunter, who had shot tigers in Africa. Conversing 
with a German about sport, he said, ' I care nothing 
for sport, unless there is an element of danger in it.' 
The German replies, Ah! you vant danger? Veil, 
you go shoot mit me, dere vill be de danger. Yy, I 
shoot my brother in his stomich, t'oder day ! ' Talking 
of shooting reminds me of the man who had a heavy 
charge in his gun, and taldng aim at a squirrel, fired. 
Over went he, and the squirrel ran twittering up the 
tree. ' Oh ! ' said he, as he picked himself up, ' if 
you had been at this end of the gun, you would not 
have run so fast.' That reminds me of two negroes, 
who were out shooting, and coming to a wolf's hole, 



WHAT DARKS BE HOLE. 323 

one said, ^ Dar 's a wolf's hole.' ' I reckon dar is,' said 
Jem. 'I wonder wedder de ole un's in dat hole.' 
' Dar ain't no wolf in dat hole, it don't look like dar 
was a wolf dar. I reckon dar 's young uns.' ' Reckon 
dar may be young uns: s'pose you go in dar, Cuff, 
and see wedder dar is or not.' ' Go in yourself, Jem. 
I'll stand at de hole and watch for de wolf. If I see 
him coming I'll let you know.' ^All right;' and Jem 
crept into the hole. Soon the wolf came up with a 
swinging trot, and made straight for the hole. Cuff 
Avas too late, and could only seize the wolf's tail, and 
then it was, pull wolf and pull Cuff, the wolf's body 
completely filling the hole. Jem said, ' Cuff, what 
makes de hole so dark?' ^Is de hole dark?' 'It's 
all darkened up, what makes it? ' ' "Well, I reckon, if 
dis wolf's tail comes loose, you know what makes de 
hole so dark.' Talking of negroes reminds me of a 
colored man who, when asked whether he knew the 
way to a certain place, said, ' 1 wish I had as many 
dollars as I know where dat place is.' This mis- 
take of the negro reminds me of a Dutchman, who 
wanted a man to go out of his store, and said, ' Go 
out of my store. If you don't go out of my store, 
I'll get a policeman vot vill.' Talking of Dutchmen, 
reminds me of two who went into Delmonico's and got 
lunch. The price was higher than they expected, and 
one of them was very angry, and began . to swear. 
' Yot's de matter? ' ' Matter enough ; noine tollars for 
a lunch, — I vill swear! ' 'Ah, nefer mind,' said the 
other, ' nefer mind. The Lord has punished dat Del- 
monico already, very bad.' 'How has he punished 
him?' ' Yy, I've got my pocket full of his spoons.' 
Talking of spoons reminds me of a politician," — and 



324 AUTOGEAPH TRAP. 

SO you get into politics and finish your lecture 
ad lib, I think these are suggestions for a " moddle " 
lecture. 

To some men, the practice of requesting autographs 
is a nuisance and a bore. I have never had any ob- 
jections to giving or sending an autograph, when a 
stamped and directed envelope is enclosed with the 
request. I regard it as very small to send for an 
autograph without the stamp. Yet, I have learned 
to be careful in the reply, especially if more words are 
sent than the mere signature. I was in the habit of 
writing, " I cheerfully comply with your request," 
till I received a letter thanking me for a sum of 
money sent, and requesting a further remittance. 
The . letter was so very plain in the statement that I 
had sent a certain sum on a certain date, and stating 
that nothing would be said about it if I sent another 
sum, but that if I did not, I might hear of something 
unpleasant. It startled me, and I asked a friend 
connected with the police what he thought of it, (after 
I had satisfied myself that the letter was intended 
for me, and for no one else.) He said: 

" I think it is a trap. Let me see — do you ever 
send autographs by mail?" 

"Yes, I send very often." 

" Do you write more than the signature? " 

I then told him that I generally wrote, " I cheerfully 
comply with your request." 

He said : " JS^ever do that again, unless you know 
the person you send to. Always insert the words ' for 
an autograph.' " 

"When I asked, " Why?" he said: 

" Don't you see, if any person wished to make a 
charge against you for sending money for any pur- 



THOMAS CHALMERS. 325 

pose not very reputable, they have you at a disadvan- 
tage by the possession of your letter? They may say, 
' I sent a request to him for a hundred dollars, and I 
take my oath that I received a hundred dollars in this 
envelope with these words, ' I cheerfully comply with 
your request; ' for any person who would attempt 
such a game as that, would not hesitate to take a false 
oath." 

Since then I have sent autographs in such a shape 
as to preclude the possibility of their being used for 
improper purposes. 

To many, the application for autographs is consid- 
ered as impertinent. Dr. Chalmers wrote the follow- 
ing letter to a gentleman who had requested an 
autograph : 

" Edinburgh, 17th September, 1846. 
"Sm: I received both your letters. The first I laid aside, because 
of my great aversion to any direct application for my autograph, and in 
virtue of which it is my general practice to leave all such requests 
unanswered. Your second letter, of May 6th, I placed among the letters 
to which I might reply, because I felt a wish at the time to let you know 
the grounds 'of my antipathy to a practice which I think is not in accord- 
ance with good taste. I find, however, that I have not time for the full 
statement of these grounds, and shall only say, in the general, that I 
feel as if, on the one side, the making of such a request implies a certain 
degree of indelicacy, and, on the other side, that in the granting of it 
there must be a certain sense of awkwardness, as the very act involves 
at least the semblance of vanity. And yet the desire of having auto- 
gi'aphs is legitimate and natural; but the right way to go about the 
formation of a collection is to seek, and not from the person himself, but 
from any of his coiTespondents, such letters or fragments of his hand- 
writing as can anywhere be found. I should imagine that, to every 
man who feels as he ought, a naked request for his autogi'aph must be 
extremely distasteful. In sending you this autograph, it is a relief that 
I should have something to wi'ite about ; and all the more so, that along 
with the autograph you have my testimony against the metliod in 
which they are sometimes sought after, both by individuals and by such 
public bodies as you represent. With the best wishes for the prosperity 
of your museum, I have the honor to be, sir, 

" Yours truly, Thomas Chalmeks." 



326 DEMAND FOR PHOTOGRAPHS. 

The demand for photographs is " very like a bore.^' 
There is a pleasure in giving these to relatives and 
real friends. We all fancy there are a few who really 
care to possess our likeness for the regard they have 
towards us personally. But the demand for photo- 
graphs is not limited to friends, or even acquaint- 
ances. One who has ever seen you, or has seen any- 
body that has seen you, or knows any one who says 
he has seen you, or thinks he may have seen you, 
considers himself entitled to make you pay twenty- 
five cents, more or less, for a photograph to put in his 
book. He may not care a straw about you or your 
likeness ; he has a book and means to fill it, and your 
picture will help accomplish the desired object. When 
these photographic albums were first introduced, the 
demand was almost intolerable. Men were asked to 
exchange, and a picture of some one you knew 
nothing about was sent, demanding yours in return. 
But now I am thankful to say that the novelty has 
worn off, and the demand is much less than here- 
tofore. 

I do not condemn the system utterly : I think it is 
useful, ornamental, agreeable, delightful, and all that; 
but it may be too much of a good thing, and it is hardly 
fair that you should be accounted a bear, or uncivil, 
because you do not send to all and everybody, known 
or unknown, who choose to ask your photograph. I 
have seen some comical arrangements of these pic- 
tures in the books. Think of Canon Farrar face to 
face with Maud Somebody in character, or Dean 
Stanley with Miss Yiolante in costume, or Dr. Taylor 
of ISTew York face to face with Madame What's-her- 
name of the ojyera houffe^ or Mr. Spurgeon vis-a-vis 
with Sarah Bernhardt, Frederick Douglas face to 



PHOTOGRAPH COLLECTORS. 327 

face with Toombs, and so on! And the mere col- 
lectors of photographs will place you side by side 
with Tom Thumb or the Gorilla. Now, I have an 
idea that all men possess the right to some considera- 
tion as to where they shall be placed even in a photo- 
graph album. We all have our tastes; and, without 
being invidious, I must confess that I should rather 
not be mixed up even in an album with the ladies of 
the variety shows, or the singers of the ojpera hoitffe. 



CHAPTEK XXIII. 



UXENDUEABLE BORES. — MY EXPERIENCES WITH 

THEM. — aefectatio:n^ and "style." 



A Class of Bores — An Aggravating Case — Its Sequel — Incident of a 
Lecture — Two Hingham Callers — The Brilliant Young Man in a 
Joking Mood — The Conundrum, " Canaan " — " Old Dog Tray " — 
President Woolsey and the Joking Boy — Cultivation of Affectation — 
Indifference — Imitating Enthusiasm — Affectation turning into a 
*'Lithp" — Unstylish Persons in Style — Tarts " Fourpence a-Piece, 
Ma'am " — Late-Comers in Church and Lecture — " Who art thou? " 
— An Officer of Her Majesty's Service — Making Puns — Dealing 
with the Superlative in Conversation — Common Mistakes — Petty 
Expressions — " Lor', how cunning! " — Exaggerations in Speech — 
Trivial Faults mar the Enjoyments of Life. 

HERE is a class of bores that are 
almost unendurable, that are self-suf- 
ficient, confident, obtrusive, and annoy- 
ing. They will call upon you and in- 
sist on an interview. Perhaps, having 
set yourself at a task for the day, you 
are interrupted by some vexatious per- 
son who will hinder you in your work, 
taking up your valuable time with his ab- 
surdities. Patronizing in his demeanor, he seems to 
feel that he is conferring a great favor by detaining 
you from important avocations. So exacting is he in 
his demands on your time, that to get rid of him you 
must be guilty of positive rudeness. 

328 




"know my pathee?" 329 

I remember one instance among many. I was 
quietly reading, one summer day, under the trees, 
when the servant announced that a gentleman wished 
to see me. 

"Who is he?" 

"I don't know." 

" Did he give his name? " 

"No, sir." 

""Where is he?" 

" At the front door, in a buggy." 

So, hoping that he would not keep me long, I went 
to the front door; there sat a young gentleman in an 
open buggy. 

" How do ye do, Gough? " 

" How do you do, sir? " 

" Don't know me? " 

" :N"o, sir." 

" Don't know me? Look at me." 

I looked at him. 

" Now don't you know me? " 

" 'No, sir; I do not recollect you." 

" Why, you stopped at my father's house once, 
when I was a boy. Know my father? " 

" No." 

"Don't know my father? Well, I do. Ha, ha! 
that's a joke. Well, how do you do? I got a buggy 
in Worcester, and drove out here on purpose to see 
you." 

" Will you walk in? I will see that your horse is 
hitched." 

He walked with me into the parlor. 

I have a framed picture near the door, entitled 
"The Eeturn from the Deer-Stalking:" a woman is 



330 HISTORY OF GUANO. 

rowing a boat across the loch, while a gentleman in a 
hunting cap and dress is in the stern. 

When he saw it, he said : 

"Ah, a picture ! " holding his half-closed hand to his 
eyes to get a good sight. " That's a good picture. 
Queen Yictoria and Prince Albert, I suppose ? " 

I said, " Hardly ! Queen Victoria would not very 
likely row a boat across the loch." 

"Ah, I dare say; but you've been to England, and 
it struck me that was the Queen." 

Turning to another picture called " Langdale Pikes," 
he said, — going through the same motions with his 
hand, — "Ah, a very pretty farm scene." 

I said, " That is not a farm scene ; that is a view of 
Langdale Pikes in Cumberland." 

"Yes. "Well, I see some cows there, and didn't 
know but it was an English farm scene. Been to 
England, you know. By the way, I want to see your 
library." 

I took him into the room. 

As he looked around, he said : " What a lot of 
books! Here's where you cook up your lectures, eh? 
read 'em all?" 

And so he went round the room, talking nonsense, 
till he came to the two volumes of the History of 
British Guiana. 

" Oh, there, I knew you were a practical man ! I 
like practical men. You're a farmer, and here's the 
book! I see you are practical." 

I said, "What has that book to do with farming?" 

" Why, don't you see, the History of British Gua- 
no? That's practical — learn its history before you 
use it I " 



CAPITAL ILLUSTRATION^. 331 

And so for three mortal hours did that gentleman 
nearly drive me wild. 

A circumstance occurred some years after, in con- 
nection with this visit, and I give it as a sequel. It is 
so ridiculously absurd that one can scarcely believe it 
to be possible, but I record the simple fact. I give 
no names; and if the individual should happen to 
read this, he would not probably recognize the picture 
as any representation of himself. I was stopping in 
the hotel of the town where I was to lecture that 
evening, when this gentleman called, who said he had 
come to town to hear my lecture. We chatted a 
while, and he left me. While I was speaking, I saw 
him in the audience. Soon I came to a point where I 
needed an illustration of the stolidity or stupidity of 
a regular bore, when the idea seized me — " Why not 
use this gentleman's visit at my house? Ah, it would 
be too barefaced." The temptation grew on me, and 
as I was speaking I argued the point. " I do not be- 
lieve he will take, yet it will hardly do." Still I 
seemed to be seized with an almost irresistible desire 
to use the circumstance of his visit. Perhaps it was 
impudent, but I did it. As I looked on his face, and 
remembered him at my house, the risk of his taking 
it grew less, and I told the whole story through. He 
seemed to enjoy it, for he laughed when others 
laughed. After the lecture was over, he called on me 
at the hotel. 'Now, I thought, I shall catch it; but to 
my utter surprise, he said: 

"Well, Gough, I enjoyed your lecture first-rate; 
but the best part of the whole was about that man 
who called on you; for don't you remember I called 
at your house once, and I remember your library and 
pictures. It was first-rate." 



332 ANNOYma interruptio:n^. 

It is almost past belief that any man should be so 
obtuse, but so it was. 

Many years ago, during my residence in Eoxbury, 
and before my wife had learned to refuse me to all 
and any who might call while I was resting for the 
evening's work, two ladies called, and wished very 
much to see me. 

My wife said, " Mr. Gough is resting." 

^' We will keep him but a minute. We came from 
out of town, and very much wish to see him.'' 

So I was called, and came into the room half 
asleep and in not very good-humor. There were two 
large ladies seated on the sofa, who looked at me, and 
then very complacently smiled on each other. 

"Ladies, did you wish to see meV" 

" Yes, we called on purpose to see you." 

" What did you want? " 

" Oh, we do not want anything. We live in Hing- 
ham, and we've heard you lecture, and we was in 
Eoxbury, and we found out where you lived, and we 
don't want anything but we thought we would like to 
see how you looked in the day-time, for we've never 
seen you except in the evening! " 

"Is that all?" 

" Yes, that's all we wanted." 

" Good afternoon, ladies." 

And I went back to my room with my rest com- 
pletely broken by the curiosity that desired to see how 
I looked in the day-time. 

A very disagreeable person often met in society, is 
the young man who has an idea he is very brilliant. 
Woe be to the party he patronizes. He will interrupt 
the most interesting conversation with his inanities- 
He has an idea he is original, and will bore you with 



AN ORIGINAL CONUNDRUM. 333 

puns, jokes, or conundrums, worked out with labori- 
ous effort at his leisure, and brought forward at the 
most inopportune occasions as a fresh scintillation 
of his wonderful genius. Think of a dunce like this 
interrupting a pleasant social chat with — " Ah, here 
you are! I've got something for you, perfectly 
original. I made it last night — that is — I thought 
of it last night. It's a conundrum — perfectly origi- 
nal, I assure you. Would you like to hear my co- 
nundrum? You never heard any one like it, and 
never will. It's my own — perfectly original. I have 
not even had a suoforestion. It came to me last nio^ht 
like an inspiration. There was no shape to it when 
it came, but I have rounded it out and filled it in 
till it has become a symmetrical conundrum, per- 
fectly original. "Would you like to hear my conun- 
drum? You will never be able to guess it." 

ISTot at all discouraged by the evident annoyance of 
the party he is boring, he goes on : " ^ow, I'll tell you ! 
Prepare to be astonished; its perfectly original. What 
town in New York is like — is like — Pshaw ! now 
I had it all right. "What town in ]^ew York State is 
like — "What town is like — m — m — dear me ! 
how strange ! I had it all right. Oh, ah, yes ! What 
town in ISTew York State is like the promised land? 
That's it! Do you give it up? Can't you guess? 
'No? I knew you couldn't. Now for a surprise. 
You never could guess it. What town in New York 
State is like the promised land? Why, Canandaigua, 
to be sure. Don't you see it? No? That's because 
it's original, and an entirely new idea. Canandaigua. 
See ! cut the word in two, and throw away the daigua, 
and there you have it: Canan. Only pronounce Canan, 
Canaan, Ha, ha! is not that original?" All this 



334 OLD DOG TEAY. 

without a word being spoken other than by himself? 
he being sole talker, both in questioning and answer- 
ing. Hearing no reply, he passes on, thinking they 
must be overwhelmed by the originality of the conun- 
drum, and he approaches another group, to disturb, it 
may be, another conversation. He will appropriate 
any person's story, and attempt to tell it, generally 
failing in the point; for he has no idea of the joke, 
except that the listeners have laughed, and he thereby 
suspects there is a joke somewhere. 

Once in a part}', where I was present, there were 
groups gathered both in the drawing-room and li- 
brary. In the former, a gentleman was amusing the 
company with some jokes that seemed to take, as the 
roars of laughter testified. One thing he said was: 
'' Poets do not always tell the truth. Many of their 
sentiments are false ; for instance, ' Old dog Tray 's 
ever faithful.' That is not true: it may be poetry, 
but it's not fact; for how can old dog Tray be faith- 
ful, if he betray?" "Ha, ha! very good," was the 
response; and a genial chorus of laughter filled the 
room. One young gentleman caught the idea in part, 
and knowing it had pleased one party, rushed into the 
library, and cried out, " Oh, I've got something for 
you : it's very good — capital ! ' Old dog Tray 's ever 
faithful ' is not true: it's poetry, but not fact; for how 
can old dog Tray be faithful if his name is Tray? 
Ha, ha ! " — laughing almost frantically himself, till he 
sees the sober faces of the group, when he went back 
to the gentleman who had told the story, and inter- 
rupted him by saying, "Oh, look here; your story 
doesn't take in the other room ! " 

Some persons neither appreciate nor repeat an- 
other's joke correctly. I was told that in New 



INSUFFEEABLE AFFECT ATI0:N'. 335 

Haven a gentleman of this class was walking with 
President Woolsey, of Yale, when a boy fell down. 

"Boy, how did you happen to fall down?" asked 
President Woolsey. 

The boy's reply was, " Notwithstanding." 

" Very good," said the President; " don't you think 
so?" 

" I didn't see anything in it." 

" But did you not hear what the boy said? " 

" Yes ; but I did not see any point." 

" But I did, and thought it was very good." 

They separated, and the obtuse gentleman said soon 
after to a friend, " A little thing occurred on the street 
just now that seemed to please President Woolsey, 
but I didn't see anything in it. A boy fell down, and 
the President asked him how he .happened to fall 
down, and the boy said ' Nevertheless,' and I didn't 
see the point." 

Some one has said that affectation is a " deformity 
acquired; " and many young people cultivate affecta- 
tion till it grows into a habit ; and some begin with 
being ridiculous, and often end in being immoral and 
vicious. Hamlet says to the queen, " Assume a virtue, 
if you have it not." But there are men who will assume 
an absurdity, and even a vice. You can comprehend 
hoAV a man may pretend to be witty, frank, honest, 
amiable, generous, or even pious, but not so easy to 
understand why one should pretend to weaknesses, 
defects, or demerits. "What an extremely insufferable 
affectation is that of indifference or insensibility — 
interested in nothing. Ask such an one if he saw the 
Alps when abroad. 

" Ah, I believe I did see some mountains somewhere 



336 ADORE A bo:n^ntet. 

with snow and ice, and that sort of thing, with gla- 
ciers, I think they call them." 

The opposite extreme is an affectation of enthu- 
siasm, going into raptures on the slightest occasion. 
Laman Blanchard tells of a lady throwing up her 
eyes and clasping her hands, as she exclaimed, " Oh, 
I have such a passion for roast veal!" They will 
adore a bonnet, or give all the world for a new 
fashion. 

Some indulge in the affectation of defective utter- 
ance till it grows into a confirmed habit, ' introduthing 
a lithp, ath if there wath a muthical charm in a lithp ; ' 
or a drawl, to make the most of the few Avords at 
their command. 

Others cultivate the disagreeable and absurd affec- 
tation of introducing a giggle after every sentence, 
and often in the midst of one. 

There is an affectation of style that is very ridicu- 
lous. How some people will force themselves into a 
circle and style of living for which they are not fitted I 
They must get into a fashionable house in a fashion- 
able quarter, take a pew in a fashionable church, a 
box at the opera (for that is style), engage a staff of 
se^vants to swindle and laugh at them, give dinners 
for the purpose of informing their guests the cost of 
every dish, and to display their plate and vulgarity to 
a class of people who eat their dinners, and serve 
them up in a spicy dish of ridicule at the next party. 
They pretend ignorance of all domestic details, for 
that is fashionable; their sons go to ruin; their daugh- 
ters make fools of themselves. "We may say of them, 

** Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us 
To see oursels as others see us." 



rouEPEXCE APIECE, ma'am. 337 

But "Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be 
wise," you know. 

I once heard of a lady of this class, who, having a 
sudden call of hungry visitors, not being prepared for 
them, sent to the confectioner's for some tarts to help 
out the dinner, — the propriety of which we do not 
question. All would have gone off well, but the lady 
wishing to show off by exhibiting ignorance of the 
contents of the said pies, said to the servant: 

"Ah, John, what are those tarts? " 

" Fourpence apiece, ma'am." 

Some of this class grow supercilious and impor- 
tant. IsTotice their coming into church, or concert, or 
lecture-room. They seem to think they are the ob- 
served of all observers. They will make a point of 
coming late ; and with what an air they will strut to 
their seat, imagining they produce a sensation, remind- 
ing you of the officer in fu]l regimental uniform who 
strutted up the aisle of the church just as the minister 
uttered the words, " Who art thou ? " 

" I am an officer in Her Majesty's service, attached 
to the Light Dragoons, and am here on recruiting ser- 
vice, thank you; " and sat down, amid the titter of the 
congregation. 

Some men acquire the disagreeable habit of making 
puns on all occasions, and will sit gaping for an op- 
portunity to jingle their nonsense with whatever hap- 
pens to be going on. Such a one will catch at some 
detached bit of rational conversation, and pervert its 
sense, continually interrupting what might be intel- 
lectual intercourse by absurd distortions, ill-timed and 
ill-placed. He will store in his memory words that 
are alike in sound, but differing in signification. He 
probably once made some hit that took^ and gained 
21 



338 WIT EST A Tjm. 

him some applause, which encouraged him to try 
again, until he has acquired the habit, and become a 
punster — a regular hard-going, thick-and-thin punster 
— a character that Theodore Hook once described as 
the " dullest and stupidest companion alive, if he could 
only be made to think so." Remember, I refer to the 
inveterate punster. If one speaks of an electrical ma- 
chine, " Ah, that is a shocking affair ; " of worshipping 
idols, "that is an idle custom." If he sees a man 
grinding an organ, "that is music by Handel." A 
man stands up to urge his horse, that is " rising to 
propose a motion." Another leading a pig, that's 
" pig lead." A man firing a gun with his eyes shut, 
that is " shutting his eyes to the consequences." Hot- 
house fruit is " forced to be agreeable." You cannot 
buy a pair of boots when they are " half-soled ; " and 
so on, ad infinitum. 

There may be wit in a pun, of course, and they are 
not to be condemned indiscriminately. Some of 
Foote's, Quin's, Sheridan's, Hook's, Jerrold's, and a 
few others, are full of it. 

Goldsmith once said that " even wit was in some 
measure mechanical; and that a man long habituated 
to catch at its resemblance, may at last possess the 
substance." 

The power of language is often destroyed, its force 
weakened, and its beauty marred, by the habit of 
using unnecessary words. There is a simplicity and 
power in " I went alone; " but " I went away all alone 
by myself" is weakness. "I saw it " is decisive and 
striking ; but " I saw it myself with my own eyes " 
adds words which weaken the force. 

" I must go" is far preferable to " I've got to go; " — 
and, by the way, how absurdly we use that little word 



PERFECTLY SPLENDID. 339 

got. " I've got to go to the store." " I've got to go 

and get my lessons." " I've got to go and get this 
bill settled;" and so on. Cases might be multiplied, 
for the habit is almost universal. Think of this for a 
sentence : "I went there my own self and saw him as 
plain as anything with my own eyes. He said, ' I've 
got to go and get the doctor.' I heard him say that 
with my own ears, but being that I did not care about 
his seeing of me, I went away all alone by myself, and 
thinks I that heats all I ever saw before in the whole 
course of my life. Well, then I came right straight 
home and I never said a single word to nobody. I 
was pretty considerable kind of tired out, and you'd 
better believe I was about used up." 

Then the absurdity in dealing with the superlative 
in conversation, making such use .of high-flown ex- 
clamations on the most trifling occasions ; never using 
the positive or comparative, always using the super- 
lative. A mouse running across the room will call 
forth as strong an ejaculation as the thunder-storm. 
A landscape is " perfectly splendid ; " a sunset, " per- 
fectly splendid;" a frosted cake, "perfectly splen- 
did; " a sleigh-ride, " perfectly splendid; " Niagara, 
"perfectly splendid;" a wedding, "perfectly splen- 
did; " a young man, " perfectly splendid." 

The opposite absurdity is in the use of petty ex- 
pressions entirely inappropriate. A landscape is nice; 
a sunset, ];)7^ettij ; a frosted cake is charming; a sleigh- 
ride is lovely ; Niagara is elegant ; a wedding, sweet ; 
a young man is beautiful; &c. 

I once showed a fine engraving of Eaphael's Holy 
Family to an affected young lady who had been using 
these petty expressions in reference to almost every 
surrounding, expecting to hear some appropriate ex- 



340 TICKLED TO DEATH. 

clamation, when I was struck dumb by hearing this 
remark, " Lor', how cunning ! " 

Then the exaggeration in speech that is so common 
among a certain class, such as, "he ran hke hght- 
ning; " sometimes it will be, "he went quicker than 
lightning; " " my feet are colder than ice; " " he is as 
strong as a horse ; " " Oh, I shall die ; " "I laughed 
fit to kill myself." I once heard a person say several 
times in a few minutes, " I never laughed so much in 
all my life." A friend once said to me in reference to 
a call I was proposing, " If you only go to see him, 
he will be tickled to death." 

These things seem to be too trivial to mention, and 
yet much of the enjoyment of life is marred by these 
extravagances and puerilities of speech. 



CHAPTEE XXIV. 



THE SPEAKER AND HIS AUDIENCE, 

INCIDENTS. 



ANECDOTES AND 



Dread of an Audience — Personal Physical Suffering — Mutual Sympa- 
thy required — Incident in the Church of Dr. Joseph Parker — Efforts 
at Reading a Hymn — Experience with President Finney at Aber- 
deen — The Minister's " Supj)lication " — Involuntary Selection of Per- 
sons in every Audience — My Stolid Hearer — Method of Preparing 
Lectures — Five Thousand Temperance Addresses in Seventeen Years 

— Interview with the Actor Macready — His Method — My Early 
Experience with Books — " Rollins' Ancient History," and *' Putnam's 
Library " — Incident at Rhinebeck — Illustration from Niagara Falls 

— Taking down the Scaffolding fi'om my Temple — *' Gough is a 
Story-teller " — The Wonderful Story — " Gough a Retailer of Anec- 
dotes " — Value of Incidents. 

lOME feel it a cross to speak, and others 
feel it a cross not to speak; I would 
advise both to take up their cross," was 
the remark of a shrewd writer. 

Whether this be sound advice or not, 
I have for thirty-seven years been a 
cross-bearer as a public speaker; but 
-3 - have never known the time when I did 
^ not dread an audience. Often that fear has 
amounted to positive suffering, and seldom am I called 
on to face an audience when I would not rather by 
far run the other way, and as I grow older this suf- 
fering is increasing. A very large assembly depresses 
me at first sight. I have often begged the chairman 
to make an address, and give me time to recover. 

341 




342 DEEADING AlSr AUDIE:t^CE. 

There are occasions when without the relief of the 
chairman's remarks, I should commence my speech 
falteringly and with tears. In my suffering, trembling 
seizes upon every nerve; my throat and tongue be- 
come dry and feverish; my voice hoarse or husky, 
until the first few minutes have passed. At one time 
the painful sensations may be much stronger than at 
another, but the occasions are very rare when I am 
in any good degree unembarrassed, and never am I 
at perfect ease in sight of an audience. 

There are some persons who consider this affecta- 
tion. I have been told that it was impossible that any 
man who had faced over eight thousand audiences 
should be nervous, or apprehensive, or troubled at the 
sight of the people. From the first speech I ever 
made, when my heart beat like a trip-hammer, and 
after uttering the half-dozen sentences I sat down 
shaking in every limb, to the last in Philadelphia on 
the 15th of April, I have more or less suffered from 
this unaccountable dread at every public address. 

I think in my whole experience I never volunteered 
a speech, and never asked for an invitation to address 
an audience. After the first nervousness has passed, 
I have but little sensation, except the desire to make 
my audience feel as I feel, see as I see, and to gain 
dominion for the time being over their wills and affec- 
tions. If I succeed in this, or think that I have their 
sympathy, and especially should they be responsive, 
the fear is all gone ; then comes a consciousness of 
power that exhilarates, excites, and produces a strange, 
thrilling sensation of delight.* 

* I should not have introduced this topic into my book, but one or two 
dear friends for whose judgnient I have a high regard, have earnestly 
requested me to do so. 



"what shall I DO?" 343 

When placed in circumstances new and strange, I 
have been asked suddenly to perform some public ser- 
vice, through a nervous timidity I have been utterly 
unable to comply with the request. During my recent 
visit in London, I frequently heard Dr. Joseph Par- 
ker. On one occasion, at the close of one of his pow- 
erful sermons, to which I had listened vrith intense 
interest, I was startled to hear him say: 

" I see my friend John B. Gough in the audience. 
"Will he please come into the pulpit while they are 
singing the anthem, and conclude Divine service with 
prayer?" 

I turned to my wife, and said: 

"Mary, what shall I do? I can't go up there to 
take part in the service." 

She said very quietly, " You had better go into the 
pulpit and explain to Dr. Parker." 

So, with head bent, I passed down the aisle, crept 
up the stairs, and entered the desk, where Dr. Parker 
sat waiting for me. His pulpit, a very beautiful one, 
presented to him by the corporation of London, is 
large, and rather high. As I half stooped I could 
hardly be seen by the congregation. 

There is a small platform on which the doctor 
stands. 

I said, " I cannot pray here." 

" Oh yes, you can." 

" But I cannot here. If I were alone I could, but 
here, after that sermon, I cannot lead the devotion 
and worship of this people. Lideed — indeed, I 
cannot. Please excuse me." 

He very kindly excused me, and asked me to give 
out a hymn. I told him I would try to do that. 
He told me to give out the twenty-seventh hymn, 



344 CANNOT AND WILL NOT. 

and only read the first verse. I had just com- 
menced when he bade me stand on the platform, as 
not much more than my head could be seen by 
the audience below. That added to my embarrass- 
ment. 

I stood on the platform, and said, in a very husky 
voice, " The twenty-eighth hymn." 

He corrected me : " The, twenty-seventh hymn." 

More and more nervous, I said : " The twenty-sev- 
enth hymn," and blundered through the four lines, 
but how I know not. 

]S"ow this was real suffering, and I suppose I ought 
to have been in the spirit of prayer, for we are told to 
" continue instant in prayer." But to me it has ever 
been. a task, and a cross, to lead the devotions of 
others ; for I consider it the most solemn exercise in 
which a man can engage. I cannot help it, and I 
cannot overcome it. 

"When Eev. Mr. Finney was in Aberdeen, Scot- 
land, I heard from him a wonderful sermon. The 
next morning he with his wife called on us at the 
hotel. 

In the course of our conversation I said, "Mr. 
Finney, I fear I am in the seventh chapter of Eo- 
mans." 

"What?" 

" I fear I am in the seventh chapter of Komans." 

He instantly said, " Let us kneel down." 

When we were on our knees, he said, " Pray." 

I told him I could not. 

" Pray," he repeated. 

" I cannot." 

" Pray," again he bade me. 

" I cannot pray, and I will not." 



i 



INTOLUNTAKY SELECTION". 345 

Then he said, " O Lord, have mercy on this wiry, 
little unbeliever," and offered a prayer himself. 

Some have the gift of praying in public, and are 
able to do it without embarrassment. I think if I 
were a minister, that leading the devotions of my peo- 
ple would be much more difficult than preaching the 
sermons. At one of our meetings in London a min- 
ister was asked to open with prayer, and he prayed 
for almost everything — for the Zulus, for the Af- 
ghans, for the government, the country, other coun- 
tries, for the audience, for the speaker, for those that 
were instrumental in obtaining the chapel for the lec- 
ture, — and at the conclusion of the long petition of 
nearly fifteen minutes he turned to the secretary of 
the meeting and asked him if he was satisfied with 
his supplication. Such a person ^ must have a very 
strange idea of prayer. 

Many questions are put to me in reference to my 
experience of public work. "Do you see your au- 
dience as individuals in detail, or in the aggregate? " 
"When I rise, there is an involuntary selection of the 
persons to whom I shall speak; my will has nothing 
to do with it. Glancing over the assembly, my eye 
rests on certain individuals in different parts of the 
house, and to them my speech is largely addressed. 
I seem compelled to speak to them, and to no others. 
The rest of the people are in the aggregate; these 
are the individuals. If I move these, I move the 
rest; if these are sympathetic, I feel it; if they are 
unmoved, I am distressed. I have more than once 
talked for some minutes exclusively to one person 
who seemed stolid or indifferent, trying all methods 
to move him. 

One occasion especially has its vivid recollections. 



346 PREPARATION OF LECTURES. 

A very stolid man sat before me, — one of those I 
had selected; but he was so very obtuse, apparently, 
that I soon concentrated all my energies on him. The 
conviction impressed me, " I must move that man to 
an interest in me and my theme, and until I can move 
him I shall accomplish nothing." I well remember 
the sensation of relief I experienced when, at a funny 
story, I saw a slight twitch of the mouth, and an 
almost imperceptible twinkle of his eye, as he passed 
his hand with a rapid motion over his face. My 
thought was, " Now I have you." Sure enough, at 
the next story, which came very quickly, he laughed; 
I felt a positive friendship for him, an interest in him, 
and would have been pleased to shake his hand. 
During the rest of the speech, after that laugh, Re 
appeared to be the most interested auditor I had. All 
this I cannot explain; but so it is. I have no control 
over the selection of these individuals, and when once 
chosen I have no power to change them. 

How do you prepare your lectures? This is rather 
a difficult question to answer without going into some 
analysis of myself, and stating some facts in reference 
to the position I occu|)y. 

For the first seventeen years of my public work I 
spoke entirely on temperance, delivering more than 
five thousand addresses on that theme; eleven hun- 
dred and sixty of these in Great Britain and Ireland. 
I never wrote one of them, or composed one in my 
thoughts; I never, except on perhaps six occasions, 
have taken with me a slip of paper to the platform, 
and then only some figures I needed, or one or two 
passages of Scripture I thought I might want; for, 
though I composed no speech, I sometimes had an 
idea of the course I should take. Usually I have 



MACREADY THE ACTOE. 347 

known no more what I should say, except in the gen- 
eral idea, than the audience I was to address. 

Some years ago, after a lecture I had delivered in 
Sherborne, England, Mr. Macready, the celebrated 
actor, who spent the last years of his life near that 
town, came on the platform and invited me to break- 
fast with him the next morning. I regretted being 
unable to accept his invitation, being compelled to 
leave in the early morning. 

He then asked, " Do you commit these speeches to 
memory, and recite them? " 

I said, " 1^0, sir." 

" Then you have them arranged in your mind, so 
that, although you may not strictly memorize, you 
'know what you shall say, having studied them?" 

" ^o, sir. I knew this evening, when I came to 
the platform, no more what I should say than you 
did. I knew I was to speak on temperance, and I 
knew I must draw on the stores of material I have 
been gathering in my memory for years; but how I 
should arrange thoughts, or facts, or incidents, I 
could not tell when I began. If you remember, I 
began by stating a simple fact, that drunkenness is 
an evil, and our duty is to remove the evil; then from 
that I went on." 

" But," said he, " do you not deliver the same lect- 
ure at different times? " 

" I use the same material, but not the same arrange- 
ment." 

He said, " Excuse me ; but I felt desirous to ask 
you these questions, and trust I have not been imper- 
tinent." 

I assured him I was glad to meet him, having been 
present in New York when the rowdy element assailed 



348 MY LIBEAEY A HISTOEY. 

and mobbed him. He further told me that if he was 
requested to make a speech at a dinner, or on any 
public occasion, or in reply to a toast, he must gather 
his material, write the speech, and commit it to mem- 
ory. He never could produce an entirely extempo- 
raneous speech. I was very much interested in his 
statement. 

Twenty-five years ago I bought an index-book for 
jotting down thoughts that might occur to me, or 
selections from authors. That book to-day has not a 
score of selections or thoughts, and the pages are, for 
the most part, as clean as when I purchased it at the 
book-store. My early life, as is well known, was one 
of privation. I longed for an education, but was 
blocked at every turn. It was not so easy then as 
now for a young man to obtain a liberal education. 
Till I was twenty-five years of age I had positively 
read no book of history or science, except those I 
might have read when a mere boy at home. My life 
was work without holiday. I read novels in what 
leisure I had. From my twelfth birthday I was with- 
out a home and its restraints. My mind had never 
been subjected to discipline or training, but was, like 
an untamed colt, very active, but with no direction. 
Desultory reading of novels and frequent attendance 
at theatres, with an irregular Sabbath service, was all 
the intellectual food I obtained, and at twenty-five 
years of age I was fearfully ignorant, as the world 
terms ignorance. My library in which I am now sit- 
ting is the history of the development of a desire for 
better things when I threw off the fetters of habit, 
and was inspired with an intense desire for a better 
life, and to redeem in some degree the useless past. 

I well remember, and I sometimes think of it with 



PEEPARIKG SPEECHES. 349 

tears, bringing to my lodgings " Eollin's Ancient His- 
tory," in six volumes. I wanted something to read. 
I had no one to advise me to a course of reading, so 
I pitched on Rollin. ISText I obtained a number of 
Wiley and Putnam's " Library of Choice Heading," 
and there I found essay, and biography, and history; 
but for the lack of a system, my reading was desul- 
tory. My time was soon fully occupied in speaking, 
day and night, in school-houses, vestries, and halls, so 
that the opportunities for intellectual culture were 
limited. Still, I read a great deal to small profit, 
owing to the lack of advantages, such as I might have 
obtained, by the training which an education would 
have imparted. 

My earlier addresses were without any preparation, 
and no material but my experience. The first speech 
after my signing the pledge I have given in my auto- 
biography, with a brief account of my entering into 
public life as a speaker. But what has this to do with 
the question, " How do you prepare your speeches ? " 
If you mean my temperance speeches, they are not 
prepared at all. For seventeen years I was constantly 
on the lookout, in travelling, conversation, reading, 
strolling the streets, in society, for illustrations, inci- 
dents, or facts, that I could use for temperance lect- 
ures; not exactly storing them in my mind, but 
letting them float on the surface, ready at the moment 
when required. 

I knew nothing of grammar or rhetoric. Logic 
was a term to me that I could not define. I had oc- 
casionally an idea, when I went before an audience, 
that I should relate some story, or use some illustra- 
tion, but when, where, or how, I could not tell. "When 
I had a fixed purpose to relate some particular inci- 



350 DEAD IN rhikebeck:. 

dent, it became a burden and hindrance to me till I 
got rid of it. I have been requested to repeat some 
story, or anecdote, and have promised to do so. When 
the remembrance that I had a certain thing to do 
would perplex me so much, and so check the flow of 
thought, that I have more than once stopped in my 
speech, and said, " Ladies and gentlemen, I have been 
requested to give you such or such an anecdote, and 
I must give it now, or I shall be compelled to give up, 
for I can make no progress till I get this out of the 
way." Then after relating the anecdote, or incident, 
I have gone on with my lecture. 

A little incident will serve to show how I would 
appropriate what I saw or heard for my purpose. At 
Rhinebeck, many years ago, I was entertained by Mr. 
Freeborn Garretson, who then resided on a beautiful 
estate near the Hudson River. 

We were walking through the grounds one morn- 
ing, when he said to me : "I am sorry you do not see 
us in the summer time : we look very barren and deso- 
late; the trees are so utterly without foliage, they 
might be dead trees for all the evidence they give of 
life. It is winter time with us now; but come to us 
in the summer, and. under the shade of these grand 
trees you may enjoy a cool and exquisite refresh- 
ment." 

I went in the evening to the lecture, and as I was 
passing into the church, a gentleman said to me : "I 
am glad you are come to help us, for the temperance 
cause is dead in Rhinebeck." 

During my speech, I said, "A gentleman said to 
me on the threshold of this house this evening, ' the 
temperance cause is dead in Rhinebeck.' 'No^ it is 



THEY ABE l!^OT DEAD. 351 

not dead; it was born in the church of Christ, and 
can never die." 

Then Mr. Garretson's remarks in the morning 
flashed into my mind, and I said : " If I should say to 
you, as I passed through the streets of your village, 
' Cut down these dead trees,' you would say, ' They 
are not dead.' If I tell you there is no evidence of 
life, there is no bud, no blossom, no leaf, and ask you 
to cut them down, and plant living trees, you might 
tell me: ^It is winter time with us now. There is 
neither bud, blossom, nor leaf, but the sap is in these 
trees ; and by and by the warm spring rain will water 
the roots, the sun will shine on the branches, and they 
will bud, blossom, and leaf out, and as 

*' The tree-tops stir not, 
But stand and peer on Heaven's briglit face, as though 
It slej)t, and they were loving it," 

You may stand under their deep shade, and enjoy 
the cool refreshment thereof.' So with our tem- 
perance tree. There may be but few, if any, signs 
of life. It may be the winter time with us ; but 
the sap is in the tree, and by and by the refresh- 
ing rain of public sentiment will water the roots, 
and the warm sun of woman's influence will shine 
upon the branches, and it will bud, and blossom, 
and leaf out; and the branches, hanging heavy with 
foliage, shall touch the earth, and spring up again, like 
the banyan-tree, and cover the land, and under its 
shade every poor victim of this vice shall find a 
refuge." 

I^ow, when I commenced my speech I had no idea 
I should use Mr. Garretson's remarks, and the line of 
poetry I had read a few days before in Festus. 



352 A^ AWPUL EISK. 

Perhaps some person may say, " Did I not tell you 
that Gough was a plagiarist? Here is an illustration 
of it. He used Mr. Garretson's remarks without giv- 
ing him credit for them. Why did he not quote the 
words as Mr. Garretson's ? " A question easily an- 
swered. Mr. Garretson was present at my lecture, 
and it would have been impertinent in me to allude 
to him publicly without his permission. I shall in 
another place say a few words about the charge of 
plagiarism. 

I never wrote or studied an illustration. Upon my 
first sight of Niagara, and while standing by the 
rapids, I had no thought that I could use them; but 
that same evening, in Buffalo, I introduced the simile 
of the rapids, which has become so familiar to my 
hearers, for when once uttered, I use them again and 
again, altering the phraseology, but keeping the main 
features intact. These illustrations are all worked 
out on the platform. 

Remember, I am speaking of the purely extempo- 
raneous lectures on temperance. This remark does 
not apply to the written lectures of the past twenty 
years. Occasionally, some thought has flashed into 
my mind in the midst of a speech, the germ of an 
illustration, and I have commenced with no idea how 
or by what means I could bring it to a successful 
climax — an awful risk before an audience. 

In the Broadway tabernacle, one evening, I suffered 
such an exhaustion at the close of one of these at- 
tempts, that, though nearly thirty years have passed, 
I remember it all as distinctly as if it were yesterday. 
I commenced to build a temple, and, with no prepara- 
tion or material, laid the foundation-stone, by workers, 
under the surface, out of sight, toiling in the deep, 



"JOHN^, YOU WILL FAIL." 353 

damp trench. When I had brought it to the surface, 
then came the struggle, appropriation and rejection, a 
double, or I might say, a threefold operation in my 
mind. The temple must be finished somehow; and 
as the materials came to me, I must instantly reject 
or select; and with pillars, capitals, architrave (oh, 
how I needed some knowledge of architecture!) I 
became wonderfully excited. I lost sight of my au- 
dience. All apprehension vanished; I could feel my 
*%ostrils quiver. I clenched my hands so tight that I 
bore the marks of my nails for days. The scaffolding 
was introduced something as follows: "We do not 
see the glory of the temple yet, for the scaffolding is 
all round it; ropes, and poles, and ladders hiding or 
marring its beauty." How to get the ropes and poles 
and ladders down, I did not know. ^ Swift as lightning, 
the thought flashed across me: "John, you will fail! 
That scaffolding, what shall I do with it!" Then 
came another thought: "Let a trumpet's blast be 
heard, and the scaffold will fall." Then it came : " A 
trumpet's blast is heard ringing through the clear at- 
mosphere; the scaffold falls with a crash; and the 
glorious superstructure is revealed in all its wondrous 
beauty before an astonished world ; and the last 
drunkard shall go into it, leaving his broken, burning 
chains behind him." It was fortunate this was the 
close of my speech, for I was terribly excited, and 
somewhat exhausted. The illustration may have been 
very crude, and not at all symmetrical in the eye of a 
critic, but it was given as I have stated; and it will 
not be egotism to say that the audience received my 
efforts on that occasion very generously. 

It has been said, " Gough is a mere story-teller." 
That may be true in a certain sense, so far as my 
22 



354 "l AM A STORY-TELLER.'^ 

temperance speeches are concerned. I have no wish 
to defend myself from any such silly charge as that. 
When I first began, I only told a story. I had no 
literature, no scientific knowledge, no beautiful 
thoughts clothed in beautiful language. I had a 
story to tell, and I told it. It was a story of priva- 
tion, of suffering; a story of struggle, and final vic- 
tory; a story of gloom and brightness; a story of 
life; a story of hope and despair; a story of God's 
mercy; a story every word of which I felt in the 
deepest depths of my own soul. Yes, I am a story- 
teller! 

I have related the stories of other experiences than 
my own. I have tried to tell the story of the cross ; 
and I thank God to-day with my whole heart that 
there are so many who have been moved at my story 
to make the remaining chapters of the story of their 
own lives better, nobler, higher. I am content to be 
a story-teller, if T may win a soul from vice to vir- 
tue; warn the unwary, encourage the desponding, or 
strengthen the weak. And I have the cheering 
evidence, by letters and personal interviews, that 
my story has been harmful to none, and helpful to 
many. 

Yes, but " Gough is only a retailer of anecdotes — 
that's what we mean." I have a keen sense of the 
ridiculous ; and when I find a good story, I appro- 
priate it, and use it. Some of these I make, by put- 
ting some funny thought into a narrative, or dialogue; 
some I find in the newspapers; some are related to 
me by others; and some occur in my own experience, 
I use them all. They are public property; and I 
have known persons sit before me, jotting down 
every story I tell; for what purpose? I do not in- 



A STORY WELL TOLD. 355 

quire, and do not care. I think the public will not 
charge me with introducing a funny story except to 
illustrate a point; and, besides, I think a good story, 
well told^ will relieve an audience wonderfully. I 
have evidence, by the laughter, that my stories do 
please; and I expect to continue the practice of 
" retailing " a few stories, either original or bor- 
rowed, with but little regard to the adverse opinion 
of critics. 



CHAPTEE XXy. 



WHAT OPPOSITION WE MEET. — FALSE CHARGES AND 
MISREPRESEISiTATIOlSrS. 



Gough not a Thinker " — Unexplainable Knowledge — Plagiarism 
and its Meaning — Satire on Plagiarism of " The Little Busy- 
Bee " — Gough's Apostrophe to Water, and that by Paul Denton 
— Histor;^ of its Inception — Reply to a Shameless Attack — In- 
creased Consumption of Beer — Our Pullman Cars and Liquor- 
drinking — Increase of Intemperance in Thirty Years — Worces- 
ter as an Example — 1843 and 1880 — Washingtonianism — Drink- 
ing among Ministers - — Drinking among Women — Murder as ex- 
cited by Beer — Hereditary Effects of Beer-drinking — Paper cir- 
culated by Life Insurance Men — Reported IntervieAv with the Oxford 
Students — The True Story, and the Scene — The Happy Conclusion. 

T has been said, " Gough is not a thinker." 
He never professed to be very profound, 
and indeed how many profound thinkers 
are there in the world? You can count 
them on your fingers nearly. Yet I think 
occasionally. I do not always jump to 
conclusions, or arrive at them by intui- 
tion. I think a little, but I do not pre- 
tend to be a teacher, or instructor of the 
people. It is not my fault, and I hardly suppose it is 
a great misfortune that I am not a profound thinker, 
for there must of necessity be some commonplace 
people in the world, and I have no objection to rank 
with them. 

356 




THE BUSY BEE. 357 

The man in the Gospel knew not who the healer 
was, but he could say, "One thing I know: whereas 
I was once blind, now I see." It requires no great 
amount of thinking to realize that, and to endeavor to 
lead the blind to the same great Healer, that they too 
may know they see. I do not depreciate thought or 
profound thinking, though it may be so profound that 
with my short line I cannot plumb its depths. I only 
think it absurd to bring as a reproach on a man, that 
which he cannot help, and which perhaps he would 
remedy if he could. 

But " Gough is a plagiarist ! " (noun,) one who pur- 
loins the writings of another, and puts them off as his 
own, a plagiary. " Plagiary (a noun) , a thief in litera- 
ture, one who purloins another's writings and offers 
them to the public as his own."^ "We might as well 
have a correct definition. Coleridge says a plagiarist 
is the most sensitive to plagiarism. The cry of pla- 
giarism .is often very absurd. I have read somewhere 
a capital satire on those who are always uttering that 
cry. The Atheneum had accused Alexander Smith 
of plagiarism, and the satirist defends him by enumer- 
ating several specimens of the crime, overlooked by 
his accuser. He says : " Certainly Smith is guilty of 
plagiarism, for there is scarcely a word he has used 
but is purloined from other authors; but there are 
instances strangely overlooked by the Atheneum, 
Mr. Smith speaks of the ' busy bee.' He must have 
stolen that from Dr. Watts, for whoever revealed the 
fact that the bee was busy till Dr. "Watts wrote his 
immortal lines? But there is a glaring instance that 
could hardly have escaped the notice of the reviewer. 
Smith's line reads, 

'A sigh and a curse together,' 



358 \ ABUSIVE AJ^D UiTJUST. 

evidently plagiarized from Walter Scott, whose line 
reads, 

* He draws his last sob by the side of his dam.' " 

I have but few words to say in reference to this 
charge. In a very abusive and unjust article in the 
Rutland Herald and Globe the writer very coarsely 
accuses me of reckless falsehood, palpable exaggera- 
tion, calls me a mountebank, a demagogue, and pro- 
fessional sensationalist; says that I have fastened 
myself to the skirts of a great cause, I am guilty of 
amazing untruthfulness ; intimates that I am a man of 
base and depraved habits, and states that no intelli- 
gent or candid man ever listened to Gough without 
a feeling of disgust; and much more of such rubbish. 
While he accuses me of gross plagiarism, he can only 
fasten on one instance, and that is what is called "An 
Apostrophe to Water," which he says was originally 
written by a man named Arrington, now dead. This 
elegant writer and critic (?) may have it all his own 
way, and I mention the charge of plagiarism that I 
may do what I have always intended to do since 'I 
was first accused of appropriating what was termed 
" Paul Denton's Apostrophe to Water." When any 
person feels particularly spiteful and venomous to- 
wards me, he reiterates this charge of appropriating 
another man's thoughts. 

In the early days of my temperance work we had at 
our meetings often sections of the Cold Water Army 
of children, who sang for us, and one of the favorite 
songs was : ' 

•' Sparkling and bright in its liquid light 
Is the water in our glasses." 

Another was : 

" Give water to me, bright water to me," &c. 



A aOBLET OF COLD WATER. 359 

Long before I ever heard of Paul Denton I spoke at 
my meetings of the beauty of water, and holding the 
glass in my hand, would say: "Is not this beautiful? 
Talk of ruby wine. Here is our beautiful beverage, 
— water, pure water ; we drink it to quench our thirst. 
There is no necessity to drink, except to quench one's 
thirst; and here is the beverage our Father has pro- 
vided for His children. When Moses smote the rock 
the people were thirsty, and it v/as water that came 
gushing forth — not wine, or rum, or ale. Were you 
ever thirsty, with lips dry and feverish, and throat 
parched? Did you never lift the goblet of pure water 
to your lips and feel it trickhng over the tongue and 
gurgling down the throat. Was it not luxury? Give 
to the traveller on the burning desert, as he lies per- 
ishing with thirst, a goblet of cold water, and he will 
return the goblet heaping with gold; give him wine, 
ale, or rum, and he turns away in feverish disgust to 
die. Our beverage is beautiful and pure, for God 
brewed it, — not in the distillery, but out of the earth, 
and wherever it is, it is always beautiful." Then I 
described it in the white mantle over the wintry 
world, as rolling up the valley in the cloud-mist, set- 
thng on the mountain top, in the waterfall and in the 
streamlet, in the rainbow, in the hail and rain, beauti- 
ful always and blessed; no curse to it, no heart- 
broken mother or pale-faced wife, no starving child, 
nor dying drunkard ever cursed it. It is always 
beautiful : 

" Give water to me, bright water to me. 
It cooleth the brow, it cooleth the brain, 
It maketh the weak man strong again.'" 

" Tell me, young men and maidens, old men and 
matrons, will you not dash from your lips the drink 



360 APOSTROPHE TO WATER. 

that maddens and destroys, and take as your bever- 
age the beautiful gift our Father in Heaven has pro- 
vided for His own children? " 

I had for years occasionally used this apostrophe, 
or bits of it, before I heard what purported to be 
Paul Denton's. I first saw that in Glasgow, in 1854, 
and noticed some similarity in its construction to 
mine. He used more beautiful language than I did, 
for he speaks of the "Iris," of the "Seraph zone of 
the sky," or the wonderful power of refraction, etc. 
I adopted a few of his illustrations of the beauty of 
water, and incorporated them with mine, always say- 
ing when I came to quotations from him, " As Paul 
Denton has said." I was the first to draw attention 
to the , fact of the similarity of his " Apostrophe " to 
water and mine. I quoted him until I changed the 
whole structure of the passage, for I was continually 
changing it in detail, and as I left out his sentences 
I left ofi" his name. I have not used this apostrophe 
for several years except on one or two occasions, and 
have forgotten, and could not repeat it to-day. If 
this is plagiarism, then I am guilty and confess, but 
will not say, " I won't do so any more." 

I have received several communications in reference 
to an item that has been the rounds of the papers: 
" John B. Gough says that drunkenness in this coun- 
try has increased in the past twenty-five or thirty 
years. There are more ministers drinking, more 
women drinking, than ever before. Twenty-five years 
ago you never saw a woman drinking in the cars, but 
now you see it e\^ery day, and that, too, out of flasks. 
The cars in these days are made regular grog-shops." 
This is the heading of the article in the Rutland 
Herald^ containing the most shameless attack that I 



INCREASE OF INTEMPERAK^CE. 361 

have had for thirty years. In this quotation from 
the reports there are some things I did say in several 
places, and some things I did not say anywhere. 

I was speaking of the temperance reform in Eng- 
land, and said the curse of Great Britain is beer, and 
in this country there is an alarming increase in the 
consumption of beer; that beer was not a substitute 
for spirits, but an addition; that beer was a feeder to 
intemperance; and that I helieved there was more 
intemperance now than there was twenty-five or thirty 
years ago; that we saw more of it on the cars and at 
hotel-tables ; that I feared the use of ale and lager- 
beer was on the increase among ministers and women ; 
that twenty-five or thirty years ago you would see 
but little drinking in the cars, and very rarely, if ever, 
among the women, but now it was a common sight. 
I stated that the porters would furnish ale, and, I 
believed^ anything you required, in drawing-room 
coaches^ for I had known brandy to be furnished to 
passengers by porters. Some one has said, " Our 
Pullman cars are getting to be travelhng grog- 
shops ; " and I fear, if the use of ale is increased, vv^e 
shall see what is occasionally seen in England, — 
ladies drinking out of flasks in public conveyances. 
For every one of these statements I am ready to give 
a reason. 

We note the increase of intemperance in the past 
thirty years. Take Worcester as an example. In 
1843 she had a population of 20,000, and a meeting 
was called to see what could be done to suppress the 
traffic known to be carried on in twelve or fourteen 
places. I^ow, in 1880, the population is 58,040. There 
were over 200 licences granted two years ago, and 
between 100 and 200 are granted now. Then only 



362 DE. HARGEAYEs' opmio:^-. 

one hotel sold liquor ; the United States, and that was 
constantly prosecuted. I^ow every hotel, I believe, 
but one sells liquors. 

The Worcester Temperance Society held meetings 
every Monday night in the Town Hall; now there 
are no weekly meetings in the City Hall, and the 
Temperance Society is defunct. 

In Boston there were four or five temperance 
houses; now I know not of one. There were no 
licences granted in Massachusetts except in one 
county; now there are some licenses in every county. 
"We had Cold Water Armies in every town; now 
there are but few, if any. In 1843 Washingtonian- 
ism was a wonderful power, and it is my belief there 
was a. stronger sentiment against the drink then than 
now. 

We know there is an amazing increase in the 
consumption of ale and beer, and very little, if any, 
diminution in the consumption of spirits. 

For the expressed fear that there is more drinking 
among ministers, I would state that I could name 
those whom we once considered our stanch friends 
who now are using ale, some even defending it; 
others who were with us are gone out from us ; and I 
am told by some ministers who have long been con- 
sidered total-abstainers that they have been in the 
habit of taking beer by the advice of their medical 
men, &c. 

In reference to the drinking of women, Dr. Har- 
graves, the temperance statistician, said, in a speech 
in Philadelphia in 1876 : " Intemperance is on the 
increase among women. I contend there is as much 
intemperance now as in 1867. It may not be seen 
among the men, but I know it is seen among the 



LIPE-mSTJRAI^CE CIECULAB. 363 

women. I see them repeatedly drunk along our 
streets. I see the cans and pitchers runnmg from 
morning till night; and you will find it in every part 
of this great State." 

About the drinldng in the cars. It is well known 
that until the drawing-room coaches were introduced, 
there was no sale of liquors on the cars. Now travel 
from Boston to Buffalo, and you may obtain what you 
wish. Only the other day I saw a party furnished 
with six bottles of wine; and a little while since I 
saw a lady, on the journey between Boston and 'New 
York, drink four glasses of ale. At another time a 
gentleman drank three bottles, and was so sleepy 
when we arrived in New York that it required a 
sharp push to wake him. These are the reasons for 
saying what I did; and I maintain I had a right to 
say it without calling down on me such low abuse 
and vituperation. 

A gentleman of large experience and observation, 
who has travelled in the United States twenty thou- 
sand miles each year for the past six years, to whom 
I read the above statement, tells me that he knows 
there is a large increase in the consumption of liquor 
on the cars, and he has several times remonstrated 
with the conductor and porter for furnishing drink to 
persons who made themselves quite offensive by its 
use. He asserts that he has seen ladies drink from 
bottles they have carried with them, &c. 

I have in another place spoken of the increase of 
the use of beer, and its deleterious effects. Let me 
here introduce the contents of a paper that is being 
circulated among life-insurance agents by one of the 
prominent companies of New York : 



364 BEEE IS ANIMALIZmG. 

*' The fashion of the present day in the United States sets strongly 
toward the substitution of beer for other stimulating liquors. An idea 
appears to be gaining ground that it is not only nutritious, but conducive 
to health ; and further, that there does not attach to it that danger of 
creating intemperate habits which attends the use of other drinks. The 
subject is one of great magnitude, and deserves the attention of medical 
men as well as that of the moralist. 

" Many years ago, and long before the moral sense of society was 
awakened to the enormous evils of intemperance. Sir Astley Cooper, an 
undisputed authority in his day, denounced habitual beer-drinking as 
noxious to health. Referring to his experience in Guy's Hospital, he 
declared that the beer-drinkers from the London breweries, though pre- 
senting the appearance of most rugged health, were the most incapable 
of all classes to resist disease ; that trifling injuries among them were 
liable to lead to the most serious consequences, and that so prone were 
they to succumb to disease, that they would sometimes die from gangrene 
in wounds as trifling as the scratch of a pin. 

" We apprehend that no gi'eat change, either in beer or men, has 
taken place since the days of the great surgeon. 

" It may also be said of beer-drinking that there is less limitation to 
it than to the habitual use of other drinks. It does not produce speedy 
intoxication. When the drinker becomes accustomed to it, it will 
scarcely produce active intoxication in any quantity. It makes him 
heavy, sleepy, and stupid. Even in moderate quantities, its tendency is 
to dullness and sluggishness of body and mind. Beer-drinkers are con-' 
stant drinkers ; their capacity becomes unlimited. The swilling of the 
drink becomes a regular business ; it has no arrest or suspension, like 
whiskey-drinking, to admit of recuperation. The old definition of a 
regular beer-drinker was true: 'Every morning a beer-barrel, every 
night a barrel of beer.' " 

Of all intoxicating drinks it is the most animal- 
izing. It dulls the intellectual and moral, and feeds 
the sensual and beastly nature. Beyond all other 
drinks it qualifies for deliberate and unprovoked 
crime. In this respect it is much worse than distilled 
liquors. 

" A whiskey-drinker will commit murder, only under the direct ex- 
citement of liquor ; a beer-drinker is capable of doing it in cold blood. 
Long observation has assured us that a large proportion of murders 
deliberately planned and executed without passion or malice, with no 
other motive than the acquisition of property or money — often of trifling 
value — are perpetrated by beer-drinkers. 



COMICAL MISTAKES. 365 

" We believe further, that the hereditary evils of beer-drinking exceed 
those proceeding from ardent spirits. First, because the habit is constant 
and without paroxysmal interruptions, which admit of some recupera- 
tion; secondly, because beer-drinking is practised by both sexes more 
generally than the spirit-drinking; and, thirdly, because the animalizing 
tendency of the habit is more uniformly developed, thus authorizing the 
the presumption that the vicious results are more generally transmitted. 

*' It will be inferred from these remarks that we take no comfort from 
the substitution of malt drinks for spirituous liquors. On the contrary, 
it is cause of apprehension and alarm, that just as public opinion, j^rofes- 
sional and unprofessional, is uniting all over the world in the condemna- 
tion of the common use of ardent spirits, the portals of danger and death 
are opening wide in another direction." 

It is strange how a report will change in a very 
little travel. One story was, that I said there was 
more drunkenness among ministers and women than 
there was twenty-eight years ago; and another, 
which I received the other day marked, was very 
much abbreviated. This stated, " Gough says there 
are more ministers and women in this country than 
ever before." 

I saw in a recent paper a queer account of my 
interview with the Oxford students in 1854,. I give 
you the genuine and the spurious, just for the " fun 
of the thing." This strange version is headed: 

**GOUGH'S CONTEST WITH OXFORD STUDENTS. 

♦*An amusing story is told of John B. Gough, when he went to 
Oxford to address the students on temperance. The students sent 
word to Mr. Gough that they 'would not have any temperance,' and 
advised him not to persist in lecturing; but he went to the hall. For 
twenty minutes he spoke in j^antomime amid the deafening cat-calls of 
the boys. Finally, he stepped forward, demanded British fair play, and 
offered to whip every one of the five hundred students singly. 

"His offer was loudly cheered and promptly accepted, and a big 
six-foot athlete was sent up on the stage. Gough, who is a little man, 
backed off as the big fellow approached him, and explained, 'i\Iy 
friends, you evidently misunderstand me. This is to be an intellectual 
contest, not a ]5rize-fight.' The students cheered again at this evidence 
of the American's shrewdness and ordered the debate to proceed. The 



366 SPURIOUS AND ORIGEN-AL. 

college lad was, therefore, obliged to discuss with the temperance cham- 
pion. He was at a disadvantage, but he quoted Scripture, and reminded 
the plucky lecturer that it was one of the apostles who wrote to Timothy — 
a young man too, like themselves — to take a little wine for the stomach's 
sake and for his often infirmities. The lads shouted vociferously at this. 

" Gough slowly examined the six-footer from top to toe, and then 
said, 'My friends, look at this athlete; this fellow with muscles like 
steel, who can wield the club of Hercules, who can bend an English 
yeoman's bow, who could knock down an ox with the blow of a hammer, 
he is the personification of health and strength, but he thinks he needs a 
little wine for his stomach's sake ! ' Gough's inimitable manner of 
saying this had a tremendous effect. The students fairly yelled with 
delight, and their defeated champion retreated. 

"Another was sent up. He was the intellectual giant of his class, 
in contradistinction to the six-footer. He, with much self-confidence, 
made a finished argument for liquor-drinking, based on Christ's chang- 
ing the water into wine at the wedding-feast. His comrades cheered 
him to the echo, and thought his argument unanswerable, and Gough 
was chafi'ed for his defeat, ' Young men,' said he, solemnly, ' I admit 
that your champion has forestalled me. He has said to me just what I 
came here to charge you to do. Drink all the wine that you can find that 
is made entirely out of water.' " 

The original statement I extract from my autobi- 
ography : 

The Committee of the London League were very desirous 
that I should speak in Oxford, On proposing it to the 
friends of temperance in that city, they stated that it was 
doubtful if such a meeting could be held. A certain class of 
students had been in the habit of disturbing concerts, lectures, 
and the like, and it was thought they could not resist the 
opportunity of having some " fun " at a temperance lecture, 
— a subject held in contempt by a majority in the class to 
which these Oxford students belonged, — and their "fun" 
was occasionally rough. They had smoked out a gentleman 
who came to lecture to them on tobacco. Some scores of 
pipes and cigars were in full blast. The Oxford friends stated 
also that though they would do all they could to assist in the 
arrangements, and promote the success of the meeting, no 
person known in that city would venture to preside, and the 
project had better be abandoned. The London committee 



FUN AT OXTOED. 367 

were determined to make an attempt to get a hearing for me 
there ; and I having consented, and a gentleman from London 
having agreed to preside, the evenings of Wednesday and 
Friday, June 13th and 15th, were appointed. 

I went down to Oxford with three or four gentlemen of 
the League. On entering the hall I found a large number of 
students, distinguished by their flat caps and gowns. The 
introduction passed off quietly, and I was received with noisy 
demonstrations, not exactly complimentary. I proceeded in 
my speech. The majority seemed to be looking at me cu- 
riously, as I supposed a pugilist looks at his antagonist, 
watching the first opportunity to give him a " settler." At 
length I said, " What is the cause of the intemperance of 
Great Britain?" when a thin squeaking voice called out, 
" Tempewanth Thothietieth." At this there was a universal 
laugh ; but I happened to catch the exact tone of the speaker, 
and replied, " I beg your pardon, sir ; but it is not ' Tempe- 
wanth Thothietieth ' at all." 

Then there was another laugh, and the noise began, — 
laughing, whistling, crowing, braying, but no hissing. They 
were good-tempered, and simply wanted the "fun" — and 
I sympathized with them in that. A little harmless fun will 
hurt nobody. 

The scene became so irresistibly ludicrous, and the young 
gentlemen went into it with such a perfect abandon, and such 
evident enjoyment, that, though I felt compelled to maintain 
my dignity, (such as it was,) I was thoroughly amused, and 
internally chuckled while striving to keep my face straight. 
The volley of questions that were hurled at me — some of 
them ridiculously personal, and some bordering on the pro- 
fane — were incessant for some time. There was no abuse, 
but simply rollicking fun. I kept my position on the plat- 
form, though I could not be heard. At every lull I would 
say, '' Gentlemen," and then would come a storm of cheering. 
Look which way I would, I saw laughing faces. I turned to 
the chairman, and was amused to see him with a broad grin, 
and his mouth wide open, enjoying it hugely, till he saw me 
looking at him, when his mouth closed instantly, and he made 



368 FAIR PLAY IS A JEWEL. 

futile efforts to look grave and serious ; but in spite of his 
sober face, his eyes were twinkling with merriment. What 
was I to do ? It would never do to give it up so. Their 
questions became, after a while, more serious and answerable. 

One called out, " Who turned water into wine ? " 

To which I replied, so that they could hear me, '^ We have 
no objection to wine made of water." 

Then came a string of Bible questions. 

In one of the pauses of the din, I said in a loud tone of 
voice, " Gentlemen, fair play is a jewel." 

At this they cheered, and some shouted, " Fair play ! " 

I said, " What's the Englishman's motto ? — Fair play." 

'' Yes, fair play ! " 

*' Down in front ! " 

''Hatsofei" 

'' Caps on ! " 

'' Hurrah ! " 

" Fair play ! " 

Again I shouted, " Fair play ! " and then said, " Gentle- 
men, I have a proposition that I think will please you — and 
I like to please my audience." 

" Let's have it." 

" Proposition ! proposition ! " 

" Hush-sh-sh ! " 

I said, " We all believe in fair play, and this surely is 
not fair play ; so many of you attacking one, and he a little 
one. M}^ proposition will give us all fair play." 

" Proposition ! proposition ! " 

'' Stop that noise ! " 

" Hush-sh-sh ! " 

" Down in front ! " 

" The proposition is, that you choose your champion, and 
he shall take the platform, and he and I will take it ten min- 
utes — turn about — and the rest of the audience shall judge 
who is the victor in this contest, — he, or I. That's fair." 

" Yes, yes, that's fair ; " and there were some comical pro- 
posals as to champion, and, as I suppose, personal hits ; for 
there was loud laughing where I could not see the point. 



END OF THE ROW. 369 

But after a little confusion, no champion appearing, I was 
permitted, with very slight interruption, to continue to the 
end of my speech, and received hearty cheers at the con- 
clusion. 

The next evening my wife and I attended, by invitation, 
a rendering of (Edipus by Vandenhoff and his daughter, the 
choruses being sung by the choirs of the cathedral, assisted 
by amateurs among the students. It was very fine. I was 
recognized with a smile by some who were at the meeting 
the night before. 

23 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

ON THE PLATFORM — PERSOISTAL EXPEEIENCES AS A 
PUBLIC SPEAKER. 



The Judge's Speech — Power of his Example — *♦ Give it to him, Old 
Man " — Self-Possession necessary under Embarrassments — Man in 
Faneuil Hall, and Story for his Benefit — Woman and her Crying 
Child — "Did he lose his Eggs?" — One Handkerchief for Two — 
Power of Audience over the Speaker — The Man with the Newspaper 
— How the whispering Young Ladies were stopped — Cultivation of 
the Voice — Power of Sarcasm — The Donkey at Snowdon — Sar- 
casm of O'Connell on Benjamin Disraeli — John Randolph and the 
"Vacant" Seat — Tom Marshall's "Demijohn" all but the Straw — 
Personal Experience under Trying Circumstances — " Here's one of 
your Cigars, Mr. Gough " — Quotations from Locke and Walter Scott 
which were 'not Quotations. 

HE following expresses the contrast 
between what is genuine and the re- 
ported. I find in a paper the follow- 
ing: 

"At a great meeting at which Mr. John B. Gough 
spoke, in America, the card of a gentleman, a judge 
in the place, was sent up, as he desired to speak. 
" 'I beg to differ in toto with everything said by 
the lecturer. I began with nothing, and worked my 
way up to the top of my profession, and have been a 
moderate drinker all my life; and if people would only follow my 
example, there would be no drunkards.' 

"A man in the gallery called out, ' Hear, hear! ' 

"As the judge went on speaking, that ' Hear, hear! ' was changed into 
'Go it, old chap!' 'Hit him again!' 'Get your name up!' * Sit upon 
him!' 

370 




"put that man^ out." 371 

"And while this was going on, everybody saw that the poor fellow 
was drunk. 

" The chairman jumped up and said, ' Let us turn that man out.' 
*'Away rushed three or four to seize him by the neck, and were pull- 
ing him outside the meeting, when somebody came up and whispered a 
word, ' Let him alone ; ' and then he held out his hand to support the 
judge's own son.' " 

The original is as follows: 

At a meeting in a large town in Pennsylvania, at 
the close of the lecture a gentleman rose and was 
announced as Judge So-and-so, judge of the quarter- 
sessions. He said: 

" Ladies and gentlemen : Before the audience is dis- 
missed I wish to say a few words in defence of myself 
and the class I represent. ISTow, it is very hard to 
have it publicly stated that I set a bad example." 

The speaker had not said that the moderate drinker 
set a had example, but that he did not set a good one. 

" ISTow," said he, " I am a moderate drinker. Every- 
body knows me. I take my glass at home ; I take it 
abroad. I am a moderate drinker, — a respectable, 
moderate drinker. "Who dares say anything against 
me? Who ever saw me the worse for drink? Who 
ever saw me out. of the way by drink? If young 
men followed my example, they would be as I am, 
respectable and respected. I challenge the town in 
which I live, I challenge the county, to say whether 
my example is a bad one. Let young men follow my 
example, and they will be as I am." 

A man in the audience cried out, " Give it to him, 
old man; give it to him! Put a head on him! " 

Some one said, " Put that man out! " 

Another gentleman said, "No; let that man re- 
main : he is the only son of the judge." 

EQs only son tried to follow his example, and there 



372 EFFECT OF A HISS. 

was the result: he was so drunk that he would dis- 
turb a respectable meeting. 

I have made a long digression, and will now return 
to the relation of some of my experiences as a public 
speaker. 

Like all other speakers, probably, I have been 
placed in embarrassing circumstances, and a certain 
amount of self-possession has been necessary to over- 
come an unexpected difficulty or opposition, espe- 
cially such an interruption as often occurred in the 
earlier days of temperance work. On such an occa- 
sion I lost all fear, and became self-possessed, watch- 
ing for an opportunity to retaliate. The secretary of 
the ^National League in London once told me that he 
was tempted to induce some one to hiss me, as the 
sound of a hiss seemed to stir me up to a more 
vigorous speech. 

I was never utterly put down by an opposition in 
my public addresses. I have been sorely tried. On 
more than one occasion I found it was of no use to 
employ arguments with those who were' determined 
to annoy me, but if possible would think of some apt 
story to get the laugh on them ; and then I always suc- 
ceeded in maintaining my ground. 

A man in Fanueil Hall had troubled me by inter- 
ruptions, with insolent and profane remarks, for some 
time, until I felt the necessity of quieting him. My 
indignation was roused by seeing under the gallery 
some liquor-sellers enjoying the fun hugely, and aid- 
ing the man by loud laughing at every impudent 
remark he made. I also discovered that the man was 
slightly under the influence of liquor. So, pausing 
in my speech, I said: 

" My friend, I pity you; for you are doing the dirty 



A JOKDTG MERCHANT. 373 

work of men who dare not do it themselves. You 
are serving your masters and employers, who sit here 
in this audience encouraging you in doing what you 
never would dream of were you not set on by others. 
You look like a sensible man, and I should like to 
tell you a story of which you remind me." 

The man said, " Let's have the story." 

" "Well, you listen, and I'll tell it to you. 

^' A certain merchant, who was sadly afilicted with 
stammering, had one joke which he related to every 
one who would listen to him. His clerks had repeat- 
edly heard this joke, and were familiar with it. One 
day a stranger came into the store. The merchant 
accosted him with, ' Can you tell me wh-why it was 
th-h-at B-B-B— why it w-was that — that B-B — 
wh-wh-why it was th-that B-B — '^ One of the clerks, 
seeing his employer's difficulty, said, ^He wants to 
know if you can tell him why Balaam's ass spoke.' 
'Yes,' said the stranger, 'I guess I can. I reckon 
Balaam was a stuttering man, and got his ass to do 
his talking for him.' " 

The man laughed with the others, and in a few 
minutes got up and left the hall. 

On another occasion I silenced a man who was 
quite noisy, when the audience cried, "Put him out! " 
by saying, "Do not put him out; let him remain: he 
reminds me of the woman who was taking her squall- 
ing child out of church, when the minister said, ' Do 
not take the baby out; it does not disturb me.' ']^o,' 
said the woman; 'but you disturb the baby.' This 
baby does not disturb me, but I probably disturb 
him." 

There are some persons in every audience on whom 
your best illustrations produce no effect. They are 



374 DID HE LOSE HIS EGGS? 

interested in the material or main chance, and care 
but httle for romance or poetry. 

I have a curious letter from a student in one of 
our Western colleges, which I copy here : 

" Dear Sir : Several years ago, while attending college in the 
Michigan University, I had the pleasure of hearing you lecture. During 
your lecture you related a thrilling incident about a man being let down 
from the top of a perpendicular cliff of rocks to a great distance below, 
over the waves of the sea, by means of a basket and rope, for the 
purpose of gathering the eggs of sea-birds in the ledges below ; and 
that when being drawn up he was attacked by an eagle, and, in striking 
at it with a knife, cut the rope very nearly in two ; and that when he was 
finally drawn up, his hair had turned perfectly white from terror. 

" The next morning after your lecture a young man related the inci- 
dent at the breakfast-table of his boarding-house to a number of students, 
the landlord and lady, and the landlord's mother, who was far advanced 
in age. Wlien he had finished the story, and had told how the man was 
frightened gray by his perilous situation, the old lady raised her spec- 
tacles and inquired, with much curiosity, ' Well, did he lose his eggs? ' " 

Occasionally, the most practised speaker will be 
thrown off his guard if not self-possessed, and even 
with all his self-possession may be considerably dis- 
turbed. As he sees all before him, some trifling inci- 
dent, some untoward accident, may upset his gravity. 

At one time, a couple were seated before me on the 
front seat. They had evidently come to hear what 
was to be said; just the people one likes to speak to. 
They were not critical, but came to the hall to be 
pleased (and it depends very much on the audience 
whether they are pleased or not). 

Sit cold, critical, determined not to be moved, and 
let the speaker see the slight sneer on your face at 
his efforts. Look at him, as much as to say, " What 
are you going to do next? " and you will so destroy 
the elasticity of any speaker, that, if he has not the 
ability to turn from you, he will be seriously embar- 



HANDKERCHIEF FOR TWO. 375 

rassed. But take your place with the desire to be 
interested, look at the speaker as if you would say, 
" "We have come expecting and desiring to be pleased ; 
now do your best, and we will show our approval," 
and you encourage him to do his best. 

There are audiences that are positively cruel to a 
speaker, and who, without intending a wrong, may 
do essential and permanent injury to a timid speaker, 
who by a little encouragement might be a splendid 
success. The audience can hardly understand how 
much life an occasional expression of approval may 
put into a speaker. 

But to return to my couple. They were a middle- 
aged pair, who attracted my attention at once. As I 
arose, they greeted me with a smile, and evidently 
settled themselves to listen. As I proceeded, I found 
them grooving more and more interested, and at every 
point I made, one would nod at the other. At a funny 
story they laughed heartily. By and by I related a 
very pathetic incident. Then the smiling face was 
changed to a sober, then to a sad, expression. Soon 
the man began to sniff a little, feeling at the same 
time for his handkerchief, which he did not find, hav- 
ing probably forgotten it and left it at home. He 
felt in each of his pockets, then he wiped his eyes 
with his hand. Seeing his wife's handkerchief in her 
lap, he took it and began using it. The wife soon 
began to sniff, and felt for her handkerchief. Missing 
it, she found her husband using it; and so, with a 
loving, wifely motion, she leaned toward him, and 
taking one end of the handkerchief, she wiped her 
eyes with it. The sight of that pleasant couple, wip- 
ing their eyes with the same handkerchief, so excited 
my sense of the absurd, that I had hard work to keep 



376 SHE HAS A BEAU. 

my face sober, and was compelled to look in another 
direction to maintain my gravity. 

Then again, a speaker may be considerably annoyed 
and perhaps vexed by the conduct of some one person 
in his audience. A man once sat before me, who, in 
the midst of my speech, ostentatiously drew out a 
newspaper, opened it, and began to read, turning it 
over with a very unpleasant rattle. I bore it as long 
as I thought it best, then I said a few words request- 
ing him to bear with the speaker's lack of power to 
interest him, and to go to sleep rather than to disturb 
those who desired to listen. 

Once a couple of young ladies had taken a seat 
directly in front of me, and I had hardly commenced 
when they began to whisper and giggle, and became 
so excited in their conversation that they were evi- 
dently annoying others. I did not like to tell them to 
stop talking, so I said : " A minister told me that he 
regretted very much rebuking two yoiing ladies who 
were disturbing him and others by talking during his 
discourse, for he was told that one of these young 
ladies had just secured a beau, and that she was so 
exceedingly tickled about it, she could not refrain on 
all occasions when she could get a listener from expa- 
tiating on the dear young man's perfections: there 
seemed to be so many of them she could never ex- 
haust the enumeration; and when she began to talk 
about her beau, she went on interminably. Just so 
whenever I see two young ladies talking together in 
a church, or at a lecture, I imagine one or the other, 
or both, have got a beau, and it would be hardly fair 
to disturb them, so I let them talk." The whisperers 
troubled me no more. 

Endure all you can before putting any of your 



CULTIVATE THE VOICE. 377 

audience to shame. There are a few cases that de- 
serve the punishment, but it is best to avoid it as far 
as possible. 

I would advise every aspirant to eloquence to care- 
fully cultivate the voice, to acquire a perfect command 
of that organ if possible. By careful, earnest, and 
frequent training, a defective voice may not only be 
huproved, but an astonishing mastery be gained over 
it. A naturally harsh voice, which without cultiva- 
tion would grate upon the ear of others, may be so 
brought into subjection as to become musical in its 
modulations. A power may be gained of uttering 
loud, clear, prolonged, trumpet tones, or sounds as 
sweet and penetrating as the echoes lingering about 
the soul long after it has ceased haunting it — as 
some voices will forever. 

'No man with an incurable defect in his voice should 
seek to .become an orator. Think of a si3eaker at- 
tempting pathos or sublimity, if he pronounces m like 
5, and 71 like d. "O by bother, by bother! " "My 
dabe is Dorval ! " " Freds, Robads, cudtrybed ! " The 
power and beauty of language are utterly destroyed. 

I once heard a man who preached occasionally, and 
who invariably pronounced 7i like I. For instance: 
" My brethrel, pass roul the coltributiol box, but dolt 
put rusty lails or buttols ill, but mully. If you put 
ill buttols, put 'em ill with holes ill 'em, lot with all the 
holes jailed ilto wuU! " 

But, seriously, a cultivated or a naturally good 
voice is one great essential. It is said that when Wil- 
liam Pitt uttered his torrents of indignant censure, or 
withering sarcasm, his voice assumed an almost ter- 
rific sound. 

The power of sarcasm should be used with great 



378 DONKEYS AT SNOWDON". 

discretion and moderation. A man may utterly lose 
his cause, and even excite hostility, by a too free use 
of this dangerous and yet powerful agent. There are 
cases where sarcasm, as in a retort, may be withering 
to an opponent, and gain for you the sympathy and 
applause of your audience. 

A friend of mine in London possessed this power 
in an eminent degree. Any officious person who in- 
terrupted him was sure to get the worst of it. On 
one occasion he was speaking to a large audience, 
and said: 

"You remember, Mr. President, when we visited 
Snowdon we saw the tourists on their donkeys as- 
cending the mountain." 

A man in the audience shouted out: 

" There ain't no donkeys in Snowdon ! " 

"Ah!" said the speaker; "a gentleman tells us 
there are no donkeys at Snowdon." 

" There never was a donkey in Snowdon," replied 
the man. 

" How do you know, sir? " was the question from 
the platform. 

" Because IVe been there myself," was the reply. 

" Oh ! " said my friend. " Now, ladies and gentle- 
men, this individual tells this respectable audience 
there never was a donkey in Snowdon, and in the 
same breath informs them that he has been there 
himself." 

The man was utterly crushed, though he was right, 
and the speaker was wrong, for there are no donkeys 
used at Snowdon, as the ascent is made on small 
ponies. 

I think one of the most terrible sarcasms on record 
is that made by Daniel O'Connell on Benjamin Dis- 



RAl^mOLPH'S SAHCASM. 379 

raeli. Disraeli had left the party of the Liberator, 
and had indulged in severe personal attacks on 
O'Connell, who replied in a tone of unexampled bit- 
terness, and concluded with these terrible words : 

" I cannot divest my mind of the belief that if this 
fellow's genealogy was traced, it would be found 
that he is the lineal descendant and true heir-at-law 
of the impenitent thief who atoned for his crimes on 
the cross." 

Disraeli being of Jewish extraction, this struck him 
like a poisoned arrow. 

I suppose that John Randolph was the most sar- 
castic of human beings, and made himself many ene- 
mies by its too free use. He could select at will, and 
at once, the very word that would sting. On one oc- 
casion, a gentleman, who had been elected in the 
place of a colleague of Randolph's, who had died, 
made a furious onslaught on him. He never looked 
from the paper before him while his opponent was 
speaking, but soon after arose, and in the course of 
his remarks paid a glowing tribute to the memory of 
his departed friend. Then, with his long finger point- 
ing toward the seat that was occupied by his oppo- 
nent, — he said : 

"Mr. Speaker, when I look at the seat so long 
and ably occupied by my honorable friend, my heart 
is sad to find that seat vacant.^^ 

I believe it was Tom Marshall who, during a speech 
at Baltimore, when interrupted by a half-drunken 
man, with, " You're a demagogue," turned quickly to 
the man and said, "If you had a wisp of straw 
around your neck you would be a demijohn." 

The only instance of embarrassment I could not 
overcome, occurred many years ago. It was my own 



380 AWAY WENT THE CIGAES. 

fault, and proved a sharp lesson to me. I was en- 
gaged to address a large number of children m the 
afternoon, the meeting to be held on the lawn back 
of the Baptist church in Providence, R. I. In the 
forenoon a friend met me and said: 

"I have some first-rate cigars, will you take a 
few?" 

" 1*^0, 1 thank you." 

" Do take half a dozen." 

'' I have nowhere to put them." 

" You can put half a dozen in your cap." 

" I wore a cap in those days, and I put the cigars 
into it, and at the appointed time I went to the meet- 
ing. I ascended the platform and faced an audience 
of more than two thousand children. As it was out 
of doors I kept my cap on, for fear of taking cold, 
and I forgot all about the cigars. 

Towards the close of my speech I became much in 
earnest, and after warning the boys against bad com- 
pany, bad habits, and the saloons, I said: 

"]^ow, bo3^s, let us give three rousing cheers for 
temperance and for cold water. Now, then, three 
cheers. Hurrah ! " 

And taking off my cap, I waved it most vigor- 
ously, when away went the cigars right into the midst 
of the audience. 

The remaining cheers were very faint, and were 
nearly drowned in the laughter of the crowd. 

I was mortified and ashamed, and should have been 
relieved could I have sunk through the platform out 
of sight. My feelings were still more aggravated by 
a boy coming up the steps of the platform with one 
of those dreadful cigars, saying: 



WE ARE BORIT. 381 

" Here's one of your cigars, Mr. Gough." 

Though I never afterwards put cigars in my cap or 
hat, when going to a meeting, I am ashamed to say it 
was some time after that before I gave up cigars alto- 
gether. 

As ah^eady recorded, I have always avoided com- 
mitting any portion of a speech to memory; that is, 
the phraseology. I get the idea, and perhaps may 
use the same words at every repetition of the sen- 
tence, but never charging my memory with the words, 
allowing the opportunity of changing at will. 

When I attempt to make a quotation it often ends 
in a blunder. 

I attempted once to quote the sentence: "Locke 
says we are born with powers and faculties capable 
of almost anything." 

I began very confidently with my quotation. "Locke 
says, ' we are born.' " 

There I stuck fast, and could not remember another 
word. 

So I said, " We are born ; I suppose we are born ; 
but what we are born for in this connection, I am 
sure I do not know." 

Before a very dull audience, at one time, I caused 
the only laughter that was heard during the address, 
by a confusion of syllables. 

I intended to say, " Walter Scott once, on hearing 
his daughter say of something that it was vulgar^ 
asked her if she knew the meaning of the word 
^ vulgar.' ^ It is only common, and nothing common 
except wickedness deserves contempt.' " 

I began all right. " Walter Scott once, on hearing his 
daughter say of something that it was vulgar^ asked 



382 A QUEER INTRODUCTION". 

her if she knew the meaning of the word ' vulgar.' 
' It is only common, and nothing except wicked — 
commonness — nothing wicked except commonness 
— nothing except common wickedness ■ — nothing de- 
serves wickedness — Dear me ! nothing except con- 
tempt deserves wickedness.' " 

I finished by saying, " I do not know what the man 
said to his daughter, and I am sure I do not care ! " 

I have been sometimes embarrassed by an introduc- 
tion. In Lockerbie, Scotland, a chairman thus intro- 
duced me : 

" I wish to introduce to you Mr. Gough, who is to 
speak to us on the subject of temperance, and I hope 
he will prove far better than he looks to be." 

In my Autobiography I have narrated many curi- 
ous incidents of my public life as a speaker, which I 
will not repeat, only to say, that however faulty my 
speeches may be in their construction, I know they 
have been useful to many. In England, they have 
been recited, read at meetings hundreds of times, and 
hundreds of thousands of printed copies have been 
sold there. Extracts have been published, and selec- 
tions in the form of leaflets, illustrated, have been 
scattered broadcast. It is estimated that the penny 
edition, containing one lecture to each number, has 
been sold to the extent of one million copies. Thirty- 
six different lectures have been published. 

"When in England, three reporters from London 
followed me for weeks. Four London papers pub- 
lished my speeches in full; and extracts from them 
were published in several other metropolitan papers, 
besides reports in local papers. My Autobiography 
was published and circulated to the extent of over a 



I 



FAVORABLE EECEPTION^. 383 

hundred thousand copies. I write of these facts not 
in egotism, but thankful that my utterances on tem- 
perance were received with favor, and that I enjoyed 
the privilege of speaking to so many thousands by 
the powerful aid of the press. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 



MEN I HAVE KN0W:N- — PULPIT AND OTHER ORATORS 
OF GREAT BRITAIN". 



Public Speakers — Lectures I have heard — Personal Experience as to 
Public Occasions — Ministerial and other Acquaintances — Thomas 
Guthrie, D.D. — The Audience — Guthrie's Philanthropy — His Ap- 
pearance in the Pulpit — Not a "Weeping Preacher" — My First 
Impressions — Power of his Utterance — William Arnot, D.D. — 
Appearance and Manner — " Figs of Thistles " — Newman Hall, D.D. — 
Lincoln Tower of Christ Church — Mr. Martin of Westminster Chapel — 
Strange Texts — " Man of One Book " — Cowper's Model Preacher — 
Some of my Chairmen — Lord Shaftesbury — John Bright — Bright's 
Speech at Henry Darby's Feast — Sir Fitzroy Kelley : his Style and 
Manner — Joseph Parker, D.D. — Immense Power — Pulpit Apolo- 
getic Manners out of Place — Dr. Parker at Home, and as a Preacher 
— First Impressions of the Preacher — Vividness of Description — 
" God's Testimony against Sin " — Sins of Presumption — Where do 
Texts come from? 

UBLIC speakers have few opportunities 
to hear others speak. If a lecturer, he is 
busily employed during "the season;" 
if a minister, he has his own pulpit to 
fill. Lawyers and members of Congress 
are exceptions, I suppose. Many of 
them hear more speaking than is per- 
haps desirable or profitable for them. For 
my own part I may say that I have literally 
heard no public speakers, except in the pulpit. I have 
no recollection of ever attending a political meeting 
but once. 384: 




LECTUEES I HAVE HEAED. 385 

I have heard but four lectures in my life ; one from 
Eev. Wm. Arnot, more than twenty years ago, in 
Exeter Hall, subject, " The earth fitted and framed 
for the habitation of man;" one from Clara Barton, 
in Crosby's Opera House, in 1867, on her " Work in 
the Army during the Civil "War; " one from Miss Wil- 
lard, in Mechanics Hall, Worcester, in 1876, on the 
" Yf omen's Temperance Reform ; " and one, in 1878, 
from Dr. B. W. Richardson, in Exeter Hall, on 
" Moderate Drinking." 

I have heard several temperance speeches at con- 
ventions or anniversaries, when I was to speak my- 
self. I have never heard a literary lecture in America. 
I have never attended a religious anniversary except 
to speak myself, when I have occasionally heard short 
speeches. At Sabbath school and Bible conventions 
I have enjoyed brief addresses, but only under the 
pressure- of my own coming speech. I have never 
attended a meeting of the American Board of Foreign 
Missions. I have never heard a speech in Congress, 
except on two or three occasions, for five or ten min- 
utes at a time. Therefore I can give no opinion of 
any speakers except the pulpit orators I have heard; 
and, from the fact that I have generally travelled 
eight months in the year, though I have listened to 
some hundreds of ministers for a single sermon, I 
have rarely been privileged to " sit under " the preach- 
ing of any one man sufficiently to enable me to form 
an opinion worthy of record. But I will endeavor to 
recall my impressions of some I have been privileged 
to hear, and perhaps allude to some of my chairmen 
I have omitted in a former chapter. 

The ministers I have heard in Great Britain are 
Revs. Dr. Guthrie, of Edinburgh; William Arnot, of 
24 



386 DR. Guthrie's preaching. 

Glasgow; I^ewman Hall, of London; and Mr. Martin 
of Westminster Chapel, London, on my first visit. I 
heard Mr. Spurgeon and Rev. Dr. Parker, on my 
second visit. With the exception of Mr. Spurgeon, 
whom I heard only twice, I was a frequent attendant 
on their ministrations. I heard occasionally single 
sermons from notable men. In the United States I 
have heard Eev. Dr. E. 'N. Kirk, of Boston; He v. Dr. 
Taylor, of New York; Rev. George Gould, D. D., 
of Worcester; and Rev. D. O. Mears, of the Pied- 
mont Church, Worcester — the latter church being 
the place of my attendance, when at home, for the 
past four years. 

One of the most fascinating preachers I ever heard 
was Dr. Guthrie, of Edinburgh, In 1853-55, 1857- 
60, I listened to him often. It was difficult to get 
into the church, every inch of room being occupied 
that could be made available either for sitting or 
standing. The doctor kindly gave me a pass, and 
my wife and myself always found a good seat. 

The audience was composed of the literary, philo- 
sophical, scientific, and intellectual, with a fair show 
of the commonplace; for the preacher had a marvel- 
lous power of adapting his discourse to the gratifica- 
tion of the intellectual and to the understanding of 
the common mind. The Duke of Argyle was often 
there, and professors from the University. Truly the 
rich and poor met together, for Dr. Guthrie was almost 
worshipped by many of the denizens of the closes on 
High Street, and no wonder; for, while he rebuked 
the sins, he sympathized with the sorrows of poor 
humanity. 

It is well known that in his earnest desire to ame- 
liorate the sufferings of poor neglected children he 



APPROPRIATE TEAKS. 387 

was the founder of the Ragged School system. He 
was also instrumental in introducing a pure water 
supply into Edinburgh, a great boon to the poor ten- 
ants of those lofty houses on High Street and the 
closes of the Lawn Market and Canongate. It must 
be often distressing to find those you seek to benefit 
utterly oblivious of their advantages. It is related 
that having asked a woman how she liked the water 
introduced into the city, she said : " Aye, not so well 
as I might; it's not like the water we had before, it 
neither sm.ells nor tastes." 

His appearance in the pulpit was very striking; 
and his manner was indescribable. I have seen him 
stand, bending over the pulpit cushion, with his hands 
stretched out toward the people, and heard him talk 
with such amazing power, combined with such sweet- 
ness, as drew all hearts towards him. I have never 
liked to • see a preacher cry in the pulpit, but tears 
filling Dr. Guthrie's eyes seemed to be so appropriate 
that at certain passages you would feel they were. 
necessary to the full efiect of his utterances. 

After the preliminary exercises, which were very 
solemn and tender, the people seemed to settle down 
to listen, and then he would take his text. The first 
time I heard him he said, when the audience was still: 
"We all do fade as a leaf." Then there was a pause 
amid the breathless silence of the congregation. See 
him with his noble forehead; those magnificent eyes, 
as he tenderly looks over that great assemblage, his 
heart overflowing with tender sympathy and afiec- 
tion for those who were travelling to that "bourn 
from which no traveller returns ! " Then with that 
wonderful voice he repeats, with a deeper pathos and 
a stronger Scotch accent, " We all do fade as a ka£" 
Then he told us where to find his text. 



388 "and TimN — rr stops." 

The first words of his sermon were: "And the 
earth helped the woman." I was wondermg what 
connection he could make with that and his selected 
theme. It was to show that the Bible used every- 
thing in nature as an illustration — the " lily of the 
valley/' the " grass of the field," and the falling leaf; 
and then he went on, and on, with that magnificent 
voice, sometimes like " a thunder psalm among the 
hiUs," then like the sigh of the wind among the 
autumn trees; again like the sound of a trumpet, 
then like the Eolian harp; again sharp, staccato, and 
then seeming to struggle through a " mist of unshed 
tears." Your eyes would fill in spite of yourself by 
the power of his pathos. 

One sentence he uttered that strangely moved me, 
not by what he said, but by his method of saying it. 
The sentence might have been written and spoken by 
a schoolboy, but uttered as he uttered it only by a 
genius. He had been speaking of the great law that 
prohibits this wonderful combination of the machinery 
of the human system working on forever. Then 
pausing a moment, and with his finger pointing down- 
ward, he said, " No, it goes slower, and slower, and 
slower, — and then — it stops," his voice growing 
deeper in tone at every pause, till at the word stojJS 
it seemed to me to be a deeper and more musical bass 
than I ever heard from the highest artist. It seemed 
as if I felt " the skin lift from the scalp to the ankles, 
and every hair stand up and shiver," not by what he 
said, but by his power in saying it. 

I always hoped he might visit this country; but it 
was not so to be. One of the delightful reminiscences 
of my first visit to Britain was the acquaintance and 
friendship I was permitted to enjoy with Dr. Guthrie. 



FIGS OF THISTLES. 389 

His admirable biography has been pubhshed; so I 
have given only a few of my own impressions of him. 
He presided several times at my meetings, and I 
remember how amused he was when the secretary 
said, "The Rev. Dr. Guthrie, author of the ^ Sins and 
Sorrows of the City,' will preside; and Professor 
Miller, author of ^Alcohol,' will preside to-morrow 
evening." 

Another of the Scotch preachers was Rev. Wm. 
Arnot, whose biography has been published in this 
country. He entertained us for some days in Glas- 
gow, and called upon us when he visited London. He 
w^as very different, in almost every respect, from Dr. 
Guthrie, yet not one whit below him in his influence 
and power. He appealed to the intellect rather than 
to the feelings, and yet at times^ he was very tender 
in his appeals. His appearance I need not describe; 
he has been seen often in the pulpits and on the plat- 
forms of this country. His manner in the pulpit was 
rather heavy and somewhat unwieldy. I know I had 
a sensation of uneasiness when I first heard him. 
His motions were not graceful, his gestures were 
awkward, his pronunciation rather broadly provin- 
cial. He distressed me at first by the jerking of the 
elbow, the shrugging of the shoulders, the hesitation 
in his utterance. 

His text was, " Figs of thistles." I was held fast, 
though the enjoyment was marred by his strange mo- 
tions, and I said to my wife as we came out of the 
church, " That was a grand sermon ; but I wish he 
had kept still, and had not jerked his elbows so 
strangely." But as to the effect of that sermon I can 
truly say that for months after I heard it I turned in 
no direction but right before me seemed to be the 



390 LINCOLN" TOWEE. 

words "Figs of thistles." Did I purpose entering 
into my engagements or making any plans, " Figs of 
thistles." He had the power, in spite of his peculi- 
arities, to drive the truth into the hearts and con- 
sciences of those who heard him. He was one of 
the men I learned to love, and that with no effort on 
my own part. 

When in London, we heard Rev. Newman Hall 
and Eev. Mr. Martin. Of Mr. Hall I say but little; 
he has been heard extensively in this country. On 
hearing him preach one is impressed with a conscious- 
ness of his sincerity and large-heartedness. In his 
appeals you feel that he is in earnest, meaning what 
he says; and yet withal there is the beautiful sim- 
plicity that has made his immortal work, " Come to 
Jesus," so full of interest to thousands. I was his 
guest when he was a pastor in Hull, before he came 
to London. I heard him often in " Surrey Chapel," 
and on the last Sabbath spent in London in 1879 
it was my privilege to speak in his new " Christ 
Church," for the tower of which he gathered funds in 
this country. It is a beautiful edifice, and " Lincoln 
Tower " is worthy of the noble name it bears. 

Eev. Mr. Martin of Westminster Chapel, at the time 
I heard him, had become a power in the pulpit. We 
were fortunate in obtaining a seat, which we occu- 
pied, when in London, for two years. This chapel 
was built amid many disagreeable surroundings in 
Westminster, — a very disreputable neighborhood, the 
sights and sounds in the vicinity repulsive; yet in 
spite of all this the chapel was crowded. The locality 
is gradually changing for the better. Mr. Martin was 
very solemn and devout in the pulpit, yet with an 
exceeding sweet expression. At first he seemed cold 



REV. SAMUEL MARTrN". 391 

and rather commonplace; but that was only in the 
introduction. As he unfolded his subject he fired up, 
and with flashing eye he warned his auditors of the 
consequences of sin, of the realities of the world to 
come; using the plainest terms, and but fev/ illustra- 
tions, either hard logic or facts ; but with tenderness 
and earnestness winning his way to the hearts of 
those who heard, till they were convinced of his 
strong desire to bring them to the truth. Occasion- 
ally he would select the strangest texts, and you 
would feel disappointed, in view of the conviction 
in your own mind that nothing could be made of 
such a passage. Once he took the passionate cry 
of Job, "Am I a sea or a whale?" and from that 
preached a most impressive sermon on God's care 
for us, even in discipline. Hq was a fine reader, 
and one morning I heard him read that very difficult 
Psalm, the hundred and thirty-sixth, of twenty-eight 
verses, each verse ending with, " For His mercy en- 
dureth forever." There was no monotony in his 
reading, but rather a sweet monotone of musical 
cadence that was fascinating. 

As a writer has said, "A man of one book is always 
a formidable foe ; " and Mr. Martin was emphatically 
a man of one book. He sought for no notoriety; 
was seldom heard out of his own pulpit; his only aim 
appearing to be, and was, to make men feel that the 
Bible is true, and to induce them to shape their lives 
by its precepts. I spoke twice in his chapel, and on 
my last visit to London missed him as one would miss 
an old friend, remembering with gratitude the few 
interviews I had with him, and thankful that I knew 
and loved Samuel Martin. Eitchie says Mr. Martin 



392 Ho:Nr. jokkt bright. 

might have sat for the portrait of Cowper's model 
preacher. 

" Simple, grave, sincere. 
In doctrine nncorrupt ; in language plain. 
And plain in manner ; decent, solemn, chaste, 
And natural in gesture ; much impressed 
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge; 
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
May feel it too ; affectionate in look, 
And tender in address, as well becomes 
A messenger of grace to guilty man." 

These four preachers I heard and knew on my first 
and second visit to Great Britain. When I returned, 
they were all gone but Rev. I^ewman Hall. 

I recall some of my chairmen of those days, among 
whom was Lord Shaftesbury, who presided on sev- 
eral occasions, who still is a power for good in Eng- 
land, one of the true nobility, a noble Christian gen- 
tleman, whose kindness to me I shall never forget. 
He was not a fluent speaker, but his presence was 
mightier than speech, since all recognized in him a 
self-denying servant of the Master. 

Another of my chairmen, on three occasions, was 
John Bright, almost as well known in this country as 
in England. I heard him speak for nearly an hour at 
Brymbo, in "Wales. We were the guests of William 
Henry Darby, of Brymbo Hall, and during our stay, 
Mr. Bright, with quite a large and, very pleasant 
party, was with us for nearly a week. 

Mr. Darby gave a feast to the workers in the ex- 
tensive mines and iron-works, at which gathering 
several speeches were made. Mr. Bright spoke on 
the question of "labor and capital,'' showing how 
necessary the one is for the other, and how suicidal 
to create division between them, or to bring them into 



LORD CHIEF BAROI^. 393 

mutual antagonism. The speech was incisive and 
clear as crystal; no redundance of words, but each 
word necessary and appropriate. It is now twenty- 
six years since I heard that speech, yet there remains 
a very vivid recollection of its power. Often have I 
wished I could hear him again, but the opportunity 
has never been given. 

Another of my chairmen, claiming more than a 
passing notice, was Sir Fitzroy Kelly, now Lord 
Chief Baron of England. "When holding the office 
of Her Majesty's Attorney-General, Sir Fitzroy en- 
tertained me as his guest at his beautiful seat, the 
" Chantreys," near Ipswich, and presided at my meet- 
ings on two occasions. He has a very line counte- 
nance expressive of deep, earnest energy. There was 
a wonderful power in his delivery. He stood per- 
fectly still, no gesture, the thumb of his right hand 
in his waistcoat-pocket, and he simply talked. I 
could have listened to him for hours. His fine voice 
was like the rippling of water on the bed of some 
pebbly brook; and then suddenly changing his tone, 
without moving from his position, his words came 
with deep emphasis. He was a great Chancery lawyer. 
He is a man of iron energy, and is by nature and 
character keen, watchful, and wary. His demeanor 
is marked by great gravity and dignity. As a host 
he was genial, under standmg thoroughly and prac- 
tising the most graceful method for the ease and com- 
fort of his guests. I have always felt grateful to him 
for his kindness to me twenty-five years ago. 

One of his guests, when I was at the Chantreys, 
asked him how long he had ever spoken at one time. 
The reply was, " I once spoke eight hours in a case 
before the Lords. Their Lordships agreed to hear 



394 DR. JOSEPH PARKER. 

the case argued that day, provided it could be done 
at one sitting; so I continued for eight hours, and 
nothing passed my hps during that argument but the 
juice of two oranges." 

Rev. Joseph Parker, D.D., is a most remarkable 
man, and a preacher of great power. I heard him 
often, and always with great delight and profit. So 
many and varied have been the opinions of Dr. Par- 
ker, that I am induced to record my impressions as to 
his power. I am not qualified to review him critically, 
nor shall I claim to analyze his methods scientifi- 
cally. 

I have heard the remark, "Dr. Parker is an ego- 
tist." What man conscious of great power, with an 
influence sufficient to establish and maintain a church 
so complete in all its appointments, and with the 
ability to keep an audience week after week, and year 
after year, filling the spacious edifice, with no diminu- 
tion but rather an increase, till the place is becoming 
too strait for the accommodation of the crowds eager 
to listen; sustaining a Thursday noon lecture, attended 
by thoughtful men who crave and can only be satisfied 
with strong meat, and being able to meet the demands 
of the intellectual throngs who attend his ministry; I 
ask, what man conscious of all this, must not neces- 
sarily be self-confident, or rather self-reliant, and that 
not ofiensively? There are some men so painfully 
conscious of their defects, shortcomings, and failings, 
as not to realize and be thankful for the gifts God has 
given them, but are so excessively humble that their 
superfluity of humility is as painful to witness as the 
egotism of another. 

Dr. Parker never enters the pulpit with an apolo- 
getic air, as if he would say, " I come to tell you what 



POEMS OF EGOTISM. 395 

I think, diffidently to give you the result of my guess- 
ings, and to submit with deference the result of my 
studies, in all humility, to the test of your superior 
judgment;" but he appears as "one having author- 
ity;" as if he would say to his people, "I come to 
instruct, to tell what I know, and what I have attained 
by close study. I have given to this subject my best 
thoughts; and, by hard searching, have obtained the 
best thoughts of the wisest men. Having condensed 
all this into the compass of a half-hour's discourse, I 
invite your closest attention, that you may be wiser 
at the close of my sermon than when you entered this 
house." 

For my part, I prefer the teacher who will lay his 
hand on me with an authority, and say, "Listen to 
me and you will be a wiser man," to the other who ap- 
proaches me with a humility that will lessen my con- 
fidence in his abiUty to instruct. I believe an affecta- 
tion of humiUty is one of the most offensive forms of 
egotism, and Dr. Parker will never sin in that direc- 
tion. 

'No one who has seen Dr. Parker in his home would 
judge him to be an egotist. One day's charming visit 
at his house can never be forgotten. ISo restraint was 
laid upon us in the society of himself and wife in their 
genial and hospitable home. They gave us a most 
cordial greeting. It would hardly suit the ideas of 
some persons if I should say that Dr. Parker was 
childlike — I do not mean childish. It was simplicity 
with dignity, no assumption of superiority; he was 
not there the teacher, but the friend, manifesting a 
deference to others' opinions that surprised me. I 
have known some men, supposed to be great men, 
who seemed to be seeking an opportunity to exhibit 



396 A^ ORIGINAL PREACHER. 

their ability by drawing you out just far enough to 
afford them the chance of humbUng you. I have 
been, on more than one occasion, so contradicted, 
snubbed, put down, by some self-important, imperious 
egotist, that I have lost respect for my tormentor, 
and indulged in a little retaliation as my defence. 

With Dr. Parker, at his own house, there was not 
the slightest assumption of superiority, although he 
knew that in intellect he was a giant in comparison. 
During the course of conversation I remarked, " You 
exhibit many striking peculiarities in your pulpit de- 
livery." He said, "I should not be Joseph Parker if 
I did not, but (laying his hand on my shoulder) come 
here, my dear fellow, and tell me of my peculiarities ; " 
and we sat together, and talked for a long time with 
perfect freedom. 

" What do you think of Dr. Parker as a preacher?" 
I have heard no preacher like him. He is different 
from all others ; he has marked out a path for himself; 
he is an original. I cannot compare him with other 
great pulpit orators, since I have not heard them 
sufficiently to institute such a comparison. I have 
walked twice on the Sabbath from Piccadilly to Hol- 
born Yiaduct, a distance of two miles each way, and 
been amply repaid for my eight miles' walk. 

Let me give my impressions on hearing him for the 
first time. He was not an entire stranger to me, as 
he had very kindly taken the pains to call at my 
" Hillside " home with his wife, when they were in 
this country some years since, and I have always been 
grateful to him for the trouble he took to see us in the 
midst of many pressing engagements in all direc- 
tions. When he rose in the pulpit he stood motion- 
less, his face almost rigid as marble — no expression, 



PECULIAR rULriT MANNERS. 397 

— reminding one of the "silent oracle." His first 
words revealed a magnificent voice. The reading of 
the hymn convinced you that he had studied elocu- 
tion. The impressive manner in which he uttered the 
sentence, " Let us worship God," showed his perfect 
control over every intonation; and the reading of the 
Scriptures manifested his knowledge of the power of 
appropriate emphasis. The prayer was beyond and 
above criticism. God was the Father, ready to be- 
stow: man was the needy one; Christ was the medi- 
ator, through whom all petitions must be offered, and 
all blessings must flow. The phraseology of the 
prayer was to me rather unusual, but so perfectly in- 
telligent and appropriate that the heart responded to 
every utterance. 

In the beginning of his discourse I was disturbed 
and annoyed by his manner, entirely new to me — 
thoroughly different from anything I had ever seen ; 
but I soon forgot his manner in the intense interest 
awakened by the sermon. I will not attempt a de- 
scription, except to say that he introduced that scene 
where the servant of EUsha in his trouble said, "Alas, 
my master, how shall we do?" And the prophet 
answered, " Fear not, for they that be with us are 
more than they that be against us. And Elisha 
prayed that the servant's eyes should be opened, and 
he saw, and behold the mountains were full of chariots 
of fire round about Elisha." His description was so 
vivid and took such hold of me, that on the next 
evening, while speaking to a large audience, I felt 
compelled to use it. I told the people that having 
heard Dr. Parker the day before, he had so revealed 
to me the beauty and grandeur of the event, that I 
could find no better illustration of the faithfulness of 



398 POWERFUL SENTENCES. 

God to his people, and the certainty of His unseen 
protection in the midst of enemies when we are en- 
gaged in His work. 

Dr. Parker's utterances of sentences occasionally 
are wonderful in their power, often startling and very 
impressive, producing a permanent effect on the mind. 
I heard him once describe hell according to the bib- 
lical description. " The worm that dieth not, the fire 
that is not quenched.'' '' I will not," said he, " abate 
one word, or explain away the awful meaning of the 
Sveeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth;' of the 
' bottomless pit,' for it must be bottomless if the soul 
is immortal. I will bring them all before you, — this 
fire, this weeping and wailing, this undying worm, 
this bottomless pit;" and then with an indescribable 
gesture, with his finger pointing as if towards this 
aggregation of horrors, he said, " There — there is 
God's testimony against sin." At another time he was 
speaking of sins of presumption. " Deliberate, wilful 
sin — what is it? It is a shut hand, a clenched fist, 
an upraised arm, the muscles to their full tension, and 
the object God Almighty's face! " A thrill passed 
through that audience; there was a deep-drawn sigh 
audible in every direction; and I must confess that 
never before had I such an idea of sin, presump- 
tuous sin against God, as in these two striking pas- 
sages. 

On one occasion, after repeating his text from Jere- 
miah vi. 16, " Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the 
ways and see and ask for the old paths, where is the 
good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest to 
your souls," he said, " Would you like to hear the old 
preachers? Yes. Once!^'' and that word once was 
uttered with an amazing power. Then he went on 



goxe! gone! going! 399 

most fearlessly to condemn the milk-and-water preach- 
ing of half truths, &c. Another time he commenced 
his discom^se by asking, " Where did Jesus Christ 
get his texts?" when he gave us a beautiful illustra- 
tion of the adaptation of Christ's words to every 
phase of human character that He addressed. 

Once, speaking of the bulwarks that were being 
broken down in these days of lax living and lax doc- 
trine in the church, he said of one doctrine after 
another, " Gone! the Devil, gone! and God — going !''^ 

No one can imagine the power and force of the 
utterance of the words I have italicized but those 
who have heard him. As a preacher he stands apart 
from all other men. In this country he produced a 
marked sensation. The more I heard him, the miore 
I desired to hear him. What I have said has been 
simply the recording of my own opinions; for what- 
ever criticisms there may have been of him and his 
preaching, I have never seen them. 



CHAPTEE XXyill. 

MEN I HAVE KNOWjST (cOI^TLNUEd) .— - SPUEGEON. 
AMERICAN CLERGYMEN. 



H. Spnrgeon: Early History — His First Sermon — "Who is this 
Spurgeon? " — Park Chapel and Exeter Hall — The Metropolitan Tab- 
ernacle — Publication of Fifteen Hundred Sermons — The Man a 
Miracle — Public Institutions for Missions and Benevolence — The 
Beautiful Work of Mrs. Spurgeon — Pedigree of Pulpit Story — Min- 
isters must be " Thick-Skinned " — Anecdotes — Spurgeon a Total- Ab- 
stainer — Boys' Ori^hanage at Stockwell — Reception of Mr. Spurgeon 
— The Little Consumptive — True Greatness — Sources of Power as a 
Preacher — The Book of Books — Comments on Proverbs — Tale- 
Bearers and Dissemblers — Mr. Spurgeon and the Dog — Edward 
Norris Kirk, D.D. — Oratory and Elocution — Our Last Interview — 
Elocution sometimes a Hindrance — George H. Gould, D.D. — Rev. 
David O. Mears —William M. Taylor, D.D. — Power with the Script- 
m-es — Helpful Themes — Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D. — Preacher and 
Correspondent. 



NE of the most remarkable men I have 
been privileged to know is C. H. Spur- 
geon. His has been a career thus far 
unparalleled in the history of minis- 
ters. His educational advantages were 
very limited : four years in a common 
school in Colchester, and a few months 
at an agricultural college at Maidstone. 
After he had begun to preach he was 
strongly advised to enter Stepney College, to prepare 
more fully for the ministry; and an appointment was 

400 




THE riEST SERMON^. 401 

made to meet Dr. Angus, the tutor. Mr. Spurgeon 
went to the place appointed, — that of Macmillan, the 
pubUsher, — and after waiting in a room for two 
hours, rang the bell, and asked the reason of the de- 
lay. The servant informed him that the Doctor had 
waited in another room till he was tired, and had gone 
away. Thus ended all efforts for a classical educa- 
tion. 

His first sermon was preached under peculiar cir- 
cumstances. In 1851 he was asked to walk with a 
young man, whom he supposed to be the preacher, to 
a village four miles away. While on his way, the 
young man expressed the hope that God would bless 
him in his labor. 

'^ Oh, dear," said he, " I never preached in my life ; 
I never thought of doing such a thing. I was asked 
to walk with you, and I sincerely hope you will be 
blessed in your labor." 

" N^ay, but I never preached, and I don't know that 
I could do anything of the sort." 

So they walked on, as he says, his soul all in a 
trouble as to what would happen. But when they 
found the congregation assembled, and no one there 
to preach — though he was but sixteen years old — he 
did preach from the text, " Unto you that believe. He 
is precious." A gentleman who heard him then, says, 
"he wore a round jacket and turn-down collar." 

He continued to preach after that, constantly, and 
was settled over the little church at Waterbeach, on 
a very meagre salary. One of the deacons of Park 
Street church, Southwark, in which Dr. Rippon had 
preached for sixty-three years, heard Mr. Spurgeon 
deliver an address at a Sunday-school anniversary, 
and such was the effect produced that he soon after 
25 



402 METROPOLITAN TABERXACLE. 

received a call to Park Street church. His first ser- 
mon was preached to about two hundred people in a 
church with sittings for twelve hundred. Before three 
months, the question in London was — and I remem- 
ber it well in 1854 — " "Who is this Spurgeon? " 

In one year Park chapel was enlarged, during 
which time he preached in Exeter Hall. It was in 
this hall that I first heard of him as a young man 
drawing immense audiences. He had secured the ear 
and attention of the people. In 1856 Park chapel 
was entirely inadequate to receive the crowds who 
flocked to him, and the Poyal Surrey Gardens' Music 
Hall was engaged. Here he preached to ten or twelve 
thousand persons every Sunday morning, until his 
present spacious edifice was finished. 

The " MetropoHtan Tabernacle " w^as formally 
opened in March, 1861. It seats ^ve thousand ^ve 
hundred persons, with standing room for a thousand 
more. When the church removed from Park chapel, 
it consisted of eleven hundred and seventy-eight 
members. In 1877 the membership was five thou- 
sand one hundred and fifty-two. The immense amount 
of work performed by this one man is astonishing. 
He has pubhshed fifteen hundred sermons in volumes, 
and more than a hundred singly. He has also pub- 
lished a commentary upon the Psalms in five volumes, 
called the " Treasury of David." In addition to these 
he has issued sixteen other works, besides compiling 
a hymn-book, conducting a monthly magazine, and 
writing prefaces and introductions to scores of other 
men's works. 

People say, "Ah, he is not an educated man." 
Speaking to a lady of title about him, she said, " But 
is he not quite vulgar? " 



VARIOUS INSTITUTIONS. 403 

Let the experience of a quarter of a century de- 
monstrate ! Let the list of his works determine ! No 
man of education has done more for the extension of 
the kingdom of Christ by the publication of valuable 
and instructive books than he; and the uniform tes- 
timony of the press confirms the high excellence of 
his writings. In short, he is — and I told him so — a 
miracle to me. 

I should fill a volume were I to speak of his Pas- 
tors' College, his Orphanage for Boys, where he has 
two hundred and forty; and an orphanage just opened 
for girls; his Colportage Association; his Tabernacle 
alms-houses ; then the institutions connected with the 
Tabernacle; the Building-fund to help poor churches 
to build; a German mission, supporting two mission- 
aries; a mission to the Jews; missions in Golden 
Lane, Richmond Street, Green Walk, James' Grove; 
a blind mission, a mother's mission, a Baptist country 
mission; Evangelists' Association; the Loan Tract 
Society; General Loan Tract Society; the Rock Loan 
Tract Society; the Ordinance Poor-fund; the Ladies' 
Benevolent Society; Home and Foreign Missionary 
"Working Society, — all at work, and all alive. 

Then I must not forget the beautiful work of Mrs. 
Spurgeon, who has been an invalid for years ; but who 
in her weakness and pain has instituted and carried 
out a plan for providing destitute ministers with 
books, and occasionally with money. 

Mr. Spurgeon has had a reputation for eccentricity 
fastened upon him, in common with many other popu- 
lar preachers. As he says, "Throw mud enough, 
and some of it will be sure to stick." It is interesting 
to trace the pedigree of a pulpit story, though it is 
not often possible to discover its actual parent; like 



404 U:N'TEUTHrUL STOEIES. 

Topsy, they may say, " I growed." He says, " These 
same anecdotes occur from age to age, but they are 
tucked on to different men. Liars ought to have good 
memories, that they may recollect that they have 
already assigned a story to some one else." 

I once asked him in reference to several tales I had 
heard of him, whether they were true — whether he 

ever said, on entering the pulpit, " It's d d hot 

this morning." He said, "Never, never;" and yet 
some time after I heard a clergyman relate this story, 
and when I told him of Mr. Spurgeon's denial of it, 
he said, " My friend heard him say it, and I believe 
my friend." He was once represented as sliding down 
the balustrades of his pulpit! and he says he never 
gave even the remotest occasion for the falsehood, and 
yet he hears of persons who were present when he did 
it, and saw him perform the silly trick. Mr. Spurgeon 
says " that a minister who is much before the people 
has need to be thick-skinned." A literary gentleman 
sent me what he called authentic stories of Mr. Spur- 
geon. When I was with him, I asked him about 
them.. Not one of them was true. 

He is very fond of a joke, and there is a comical 
twinkling of the eye when he perpetrates one, that is 
irresistible, reminding you of Sam Weller's winks 
that always cause a laugh, though we are utterly 
ignorant of the cause of the winking. 

On one occasion an artist had drawn a sketch of 
him, and brought it for his inspection. Looking at 
it, he said: 

"Ah, this is very well; but women and fools are, 
they say, the best judges of these things, so I must 
hunt up somebody." 

Just then up came one of Mr. Spurgeon's deacons. 



A TROUBLESOME CUSTOMER. 405 

"Ah, brother, you are just in time; what do you 
think of this sketch of me? " 

Another artist wished to make an engraving of 
him. 

" I hope," said Mr. Spurgeon, " you will not make 
it an expensive one ; the public would not give more 
than twopence for me. A friend of mine, to do me 
honor, published a photograph of me at eighteen 
pence, and he lost a lot of money by it." 

I think these anecdotes show that he is one of the 
most natural of men, with no false pride or starch 
about him. He says just what he thinks in the most 
natural and homely manner. He is a troublesome 
customer to pompous people who fancy themselves 
somebodies, when they are nothing of the kind. 

The strangest stories have been in circulation with 
regard to his drinking. I am glad to be able to say, 
that I know he is at present, and has been for some 
time, a total abstainer; and that when he took stimu- 
lants, it was by his physician's prescription. "When 
he took it he made no secret of his course, but freely 
spoke of it wherever he might be. 

Personally, he is fascinating. He may not be called 
prejDossessing; there is nothing finical about him, not 
the shadow of a sham. Some one has said, " his face 
is heavy," but when illuminated by a smile, it is beau- 
tiful. His first greeting captured me. I think the 
few hours spent with him were as delightful and 
profitable as any in my life. He is full of genial 
humor. His laugh is infectious. Yet with all his 
wit and fun, with the keenest faculty of seeing the 
ludicrous side of things, there is no unbecoming 
levity. It would not shock you if after a hearty 



406 REQUIREMENTS FOR ADMISSION". 

laugh he should say, "Let us have a word of 
prayer." 

I would like to give you one incident to illustrate 
the man in his greatness and simplicity. He wished 
me to visit his Boys' Orphanage, at Stockwell. I could 
go only on Saturday, and his note to me was charac- 
teristic. 

*' Beloved friend : Although I never go out on Saturdays, my horses 
being under the law and not under grace, keep the seventh day Sabbath, 
yet we will arrange to visit," etc. 

A beautiful day it was for London as we rode to- 
gether, chatting all the way. The history of the 
Orphanage is intensely interesting. The commence- 
ment was a sum of .£20,000 to Mr. Spurgeon, from a 
lady, to commence an orphanage for fatherless boys. 
All the money that has been expended has been raised 
by voluntary contribution, and the £20,000 is invested 
as an endowment. "When we entered the grounds, the 
boys set up a shout of joy at the sight of their bene- 
factor. 

I asked, "What are the requirements for admis- 
sion? " 

He said, ''Utter destitution. Nothing denomina- 
tional. We have more of the church of England than 
of the Baptists. We have Koman Catholics, Presby- 
terians, Methodists — all sorts." 

After the boys had gone through their gymnastic 
exercises and military drill, I spoke a few words to 
them. Mr. Spurgeon was like a great bo}^ among 
boys. 

He said, " There are two hundred and forty boys 
-only think! How many pence are there in a shil- 
ling?" 

" Twelve." 



A PENl^rr APIECE. 407 

"Right. How many shillings in a pound?" 

"Twenty." 

" Right. Twelve times twenty, how many? " 

" Two hundred and forty." 

" That's a penny a piece for each boy." 

" Here, Mr. Charlesworth," handing him a sovereign, 
" give these boys a penny apiece ; " when a shrill 
hearty hurrah was given, as Mr. Spurgeon turned 
away with a laugh of keen enjoyment. 

"Will you go to the infirmary? We have an in- 
firmary and quarantine ; for sometimes the poor creat- 
ures we take in need a good deal of purifying. We 
have one boy very ill with consumption ; he cannot live, 
and I wish to see him, for he would be disappointed 
if he knew I had been here and had not seen him." 

We went into the cool and sweet chamber, and 
there lay the boy. He was very much excited when 
he saw Mr. Spurgeon. The great preacher sat by his 
side, and I cannot describe the scene. Holding the 
boy's hand in his, he said: 

" Well, my dear, you have some precious promises 
in sight all around the room. 'Now, dear, you are 
going to die, and you are very tired lying here, and 
soon you will be free from all pain, and you w^ill 
rest. Nurse, did he rest last night? " 

" He coughed very much." 

" Ah, my dear boy, it seems very hard for you to 
lie here all day in pain, and cough all night. Do you 
love Jesus? " 
" Yes." 

" Jesus loves you. He bought you with His pre- 
cious blood, and He Imows what is best for you. It 
seems hard for you to lie here and listen to the shouts 
of the healthy boys outside at play. But soon Jesus 



408 "would you like a canary? ^^ 

will take you home, and then He will tell you the 
reason, and you will be so glad." 

Then, laying his hand on the boy, without the for- 
mality of kneeling, he said, " O Jesus, Master, this 
dear child is reaching out his thin hand to find thine. 
Touch him, dear Saviour, with thy loving, warm clasp. 
Lift him as he passes the cold river, that his feet be 
not chilled by the water of death; take him home in 
thine own good time. Comfort and cherish him till 
that good time comes. Show him thyself as he lies 
here, and let him see thee and know thee more and 
more as his loving Saviour." 

After a moment's pause he said, "NoWj dear, is 
there anything you would like? Would you like a 
little canary in a cage to hear him sing in the morn- 
ing? Nurse, see that he has a canary to-morrow 
morning. Good-bye, my dear; you will see the Sav- 
iour perhaps before I shall." 

I had seen Mr. Spurgeon holding by his power 
sixty-five hundred persons in a breathless interest; I 
knew him as a great man universally esteemed and 
beloved; but as he sat by the bedside of a dying pau- 
per child, whom his beneficence had rescued, he was 
to me a greater and grander man than when swaying 
the mighty multitude at his will. 

I need not describe Mr. Spurgeon's preaching ; very 
few Americans visit London without hearing him. 
So much has been written and published in the United 
States of him and his sermons that the people of this 
country are familiar with him as one of our own peo- 
ple. I am most impressed with the simplicity, free- 
dom, fearlessness, earnestness, and naturalness of his 
preaching. He has more heart than eloquence, and 
illustrates the truth of his own words " eloquence of 



WORLDLY WISDOM. 411 

the most lofty kind is mere sound unless there be love 
hi the speaker's heart to give weight to his words — 
better to have a loving heart than to speak twenty 
languages." 

He has a powerful, rich, and melodious voice under 
perfect control. Twelve thousand people have heard 
him distinctly in the open air, and twenty thousand in 
the Crystal Palace. He does not aim to be a great 
preacher, but is a man of wonderful attraction and 
marvellous power. 

The first time I heard him he preached from the 
passage, "Who forgiveth all thine iniquities." The 
sermon was remarkable for directness, simplicity, and 
earnestness. "When he quoted the passage, " As far 
as the east is from the west, so far hath He removed 
our transgressions from us," he said, " How glorious 
is this statement! If it had been as far as the South 
is from the ^N^orth it would have been an immense dis- 
tance; but no, it is as far as the East is from the West, 
an immeasurable distance." From the first sentence 
to the last he held the attention and left an impression 
not easily effaced. I think I never met a man who 
seemed more in this world and less of it. He feels 
that his work is among men, and while his associa- 
tions here are with the earth, yet his conversation, his 
citizenship is in Heaven. 

His various institutions show his worldly wisdom 
in all their managements; and in their inception and 
maintenance they manifest in truth the wisdom that 
cometh down from above — that " layeth up treasure 
where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, and where 
thieves cannot break through nor steal." I regret 
not having heard more of his pulpit ministrations; 
but among my library treasures are the twenty-four 



412 TREASURY OF DAYID. 

choice Yolumes of his sermons, all the more prized 
because personally given by him. "We have his " Trea- 
sury of David," and use at our family devotions his 
" Interpreter." We enjoy and profit by his comments 
on the passages selected for reading. They may not 
be profound, but they are simple and enlightening. 
The children may understand them, the language 
often of every-day life, bringing the Bible near us as 
the book to be read and understood and believed, — 
not to be read once or twice a day in a constrained 
tone and with ceremony, but a book for every day, — 
a book not given to bewilder, but to comfort and in- 
struct, yet withal a book so deep and profound that 
the highest intellects on earth find it worthy of their 
earnest study, while the "wayfaring man though a 
fool need not err therein." 

Many of his comments are pithy, striking, quaint, 
and full of marrow and instruction. Take the com- 
ments on Proverbs xxvi. 17-28. I read this the 
other evening at family worship, and was so pleased 
with his running comments that I cannot refrain 
from inserting here a few specimens: 

^Oth verse. "Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out; so where 
there is no tale-bearer the strife ceaseth," His comment is : " Do not 
talk about it and it will die out. No hurt ever comes from holding our 
tongues ; silly tattling causes much sorrow. If we will not reply, those 
who slander us will tire of their dirty work, or will be powerless for mis- 
chief. Evil speaking seldom injures those who take no notice of it. Do 
not find fagots for your own burning. Let the tale-bearers alone, and 
their fire will go out for want of fuel." 

21st verse. " As coals are to burning coals, and wood to fire, so is a 
contentious man to kindle strife." His comment is: " Wherever he is, 
quarrelling begins, or being already commenced, it is fanned to a fiercer 
flame. He is a stoker for Satan's fires. Let us never grow like him." 

2Uh verse. "He that hateth dissembleth with his lips, and layeth up 
deceit within him." His comment is ; " He is brooding mischief, and 
storing up revenge, yet he speaks fairly. He hangs out the sign of the 
angel, but the devil keeps his house." 



THE neighbor's dog. 413 

^Wh verse. " When he speaketh fah% believe him not : for there are 
seven abominations in his heart." His comment is : " All kinds of evils 
lurk in a dissembler's soul. The man's heart is a hell, full of evil spirits, 
the forge of Satan, the workshop of all mischief. Whenever any one 
flatters us let us fly from him at once, and avoid him for the future. He 
would not spin so fine a web if he did not wish to catch a fly." 

2Sth verse. " A lying tongue hateth those that are afiiicted by it; and 
a flattering mouth worketh ruin." His comment is : " It is the nature of 
ill-will to hate those whom it injures. Hurt another, and you will dis- 
like him, benefit him and you will love him. Above all things abhor 
flattery, for he who uses tliis detestable art is surely plotting your over- 
throw. Young people should learn this lesson early, or their ignorance 
may cost them dear." 

His illustrations are very simple, principally drawn 
from real human life, or incidents that are constantly 
occurring, or in experiences to which all are liable. 
I give one on " Trust," how impossible to scorn or 
turn away from any that trust you. He describes a 
garden in which he took great delight; but a neigh- 
bor's dog would occasionally burst through the hedge 
that separated the grounds and do no small damage 
at such times. He was thoroughly vexed as one day, 
while he was enjoying the garden after planting some 
fresh seeds in one bed, and anticipating a fine crop of 
flowers in the other, this dog bounded through the 
hedge and tore over the newly-seeded beds to their 
great damage. He was quite angry at this, and seiz- 
ing a stick, hurled it at the animal. The dog stopped, 
looked at Mr. Spurgeon, and, wagging his tail, picked 
up the stick in his mouth, and trotting up to him, laid 
it at his feet, and looking in his face pushed his nose 
in his hand. " IsTow," said Mr. Spurgeon, " could I 
punish that dog, or drive him out of my garden? 
No ; I patted him, and said, ' Good dog, come into 
my garden when you will,' because he trusted me." 

I have spoken of Mr. Spurgeon at length, for " take 
him for all in all, we ne'er shall look upon his like 



414 EEV. E. I^. KIRK, D.D. 

again," and I rejoice in the privilege of such a friend- 
ship. In a recent letter to me he says : " May the 
Lord ever bless and keep you and yours, and may the 
divine appointment arrange us somewhere near each 
other in the land where sinners washed in blood be- 
hold the face of the "Well-beloved. Yours very heart- 
ily and gratefully, C. H. Spurgeon." 

When a boy, I had heard Dr. Nathan Bangs, Dr. 
Durbin, Rev. Wilbur Fisk, President of Middletown 
College, Bishop Waugh, and other celebrated preach- 
ers of the Methodist church, forty-five years ago, and 
to this day I have clear recollections of their style, 
appearance, and mode of preaching. But the preacher 
who first interested me in my early manhood was Dr. 
E. IST. Kirk, of Boston, with whose church I united 
in 1845, and on w^hose roll of membership the names 
of my wife and myself are still left. Though we 
reside so far away that we can hardly be numbered 
with the congregation, we hold the most friendly rela- 
tions to the present pastor, Rev. Dr. Herrick. 

It is not my purpose to speak of Dr. Kirk as a 
preacher, since his biographer, in his admirable " Life 
of Edward Norris Kirk, D.D.," has given an analysis 
of his power as a minister, 'which is complete and ex- 
haustive, supplemented by the testimonies of others, 
prominent among which is a sketch by Leonard 
Bacon, D.D. This chapter, the 15th, is exceedingly 
interesting. I could not add one word to it. It was 
written by one who was his intimate friend, who knew 
him well, and whose ability to portray the great 
preacher, and present to us a vivid picture of the 
popular pulpit orator, is manifest on every page. 

To me Dr. Kirk was a loving friend and faithful 
pastor. In my darkest experience, in the sickness 



"JOHX, COME NEAR ME." 415 

nigh unto death that prostrated me, he stood by, full 
of purest sympathy, unfolding to me the words of 
Christ. For many seasons he was a frequent visitor 
at Hillside. On such occasions we often arranged 
his writing-desk on the piazza, that he might prepare 
his sermons amid the singing of birds and the odor 
of flowers, with the hills and woods in the distance. * 

He was a natural speaker, having little or no need 
of elocutionary training ; still he had almost a passion 
for oratory and elocution. He often encouraged young 
men in their studies in that direction. The last time 
I ever saw him was when, at his invitation, I went to 
his house to hear a young man read. He sat in his 
chair, hardly able to distinguish objects in the room, 
and hstened intently to the young man's reading, and 
then asked if I could not encourage him by giving 
him a favorable opinion of his powers. 

When the young man had departed, he said, "N'ow, 
John, come near me, that I may see you better. How 
are you? How is your soul's health? Is Jesus pre- 
cious? Oh, as this world grows dim, and I strain my 
poor eyes to discover objects, how bright and glorious 
is the New Jerusalem, where the Lamb is the light 
thereof." He gave me his benediction, and I saw him 
no more, but his last words to me were very pre- 
cious. 

I spoke of his interest in elocution. I think his 
study of that art was a hindrance rather than a help; 
it modified his naturalness, and gave him what ap- 
peared a somewhat stilted manner, and diminished 
that " abandon " which was always such a power. In 
proportion as he followed closely the rules of oratory 
or elocution, did he fail in effectiveness ; — at least, 
this was my opinion. I remember that, on more than 



416 OKATORY VS. ELOCUTIOI^. 

one occasion, while listening with interest, — impressed 
perhaps more by the beauty of his diction, his grace 
of gesture, and studied intonations, than by the sub- 
ject, — he would suddenly lift up his face, and in the 
forgetfulness of all rules would for a few minutes 
pour out his soul in pleading, or in rapt inspiration 
tell of the glories of Christ. Losing sight of himself, 
he became absorbed in his theme. He appeared as 
God's messenger to dying men, and the full power of 
the truth took possession of every heart. His natural 
oratory seemed to me as much preferable to his studied 
elocution, as the natural waterfall is to the artificial 
cascade. But if this was a blemish, it was only one 
that was simply a foil to his marvellous excellences. 
He did a great work, and has gone home to his 
reward, with many stars in the crown of his re- 
joicing. 

In 1856, I first met Rev. George H. Gould, D. D., 
and was fascinated by his preaching. He is emo- 
tional, with no sensationalism; he speaks with an 
earnestness that convinces you he believes all he 
utters, with a deep pathos revealing the tenderness of 
his own nature, an eloquence perfectly natural, a face 
radiant at times when he utters some lofty thought. 
He has no monotonous repetitions; there is nothing 
stale or conventional in his preaching. He reaches 
the intellect and the heart, and were it not for his 
health he would have been one of the widely-known 
popular preachers of the day. 

Rev. D. O. Mears, of Worcester, who is my home 
pastor, is a man who strikes right out boldly and fear- 
lessly at sin in all its forms. Aifectionate and genial 
in his nature, he is a stern rebuker of evil. He tells 
the truth with plainness; he is profitable to hear; he 



HELPED AND COMFORTED. 417 

preaches as a man to men ; he shows that Christianity 
is for the counting-house as well as for the prayer- 
meeting, for the week-day as well as for the Sabbath, 
for the world as well as for the church. He wrote the 
biography of Dr. E. 'N. Kirk, a work which has been 
very favorably received. 

I could speak largely of Eev. "Wm. M. Taylor, D.D., 
of ]^ew York, but he is extensively known by his 
public ministrations, and by his pubUshed works, so 
that nothing remains but to give a few personal im- 
pressions. I have often timed my visit to ISTew York, 
that I might spend the Sabbath there, and hear him 
preach. 'No man ever opened up the Scriptures to 
me as he does. By the emphasis of a word, he reveals 
to you the deep, true meaning of the passage. His 
sermons are adapted to the wants of humanity; the 
human soul craves sympathy, the human heart needs 
help and comfort and encouragement to be lifted, to 
be led upwards toward the divine. I have been tried 
and tempted, or troubled and oppressed, by unex- 
pected cares; I am disappointed; I have been in dark- 
ness all the week, yet groping for light ; I have human 
wants, desires, hopes, fears. I cry out for help, hu- 
man help. I go to church. Of what value to me is 
a discourse on heroism, patriotism, the Jews, or the 
Catholics, at such a time? Merely husks to a hungry 
man. Whenever I go to the Tabernacle, I am helped 
and comforted. The prayer is from a human soul 
experienced in the trials and temptations of human 
life. I am led in the devotional exercises out of my 
own dreary thoughts to the throne of the heavenly 
grace, into the presence-chamber of the King, to talk 
with Him who is my surety, and thus I am in a 
measure prepared for the sermon, which is often a 



418 AN ATTEACTIVE PREACHER. 

feast of fat things to my soul, in which there is a por- 
tion for every one in due season. As a friend who 
has counselled me wisely for years, and as a minister 
of Christ who has helped me so essentially in my 
Christian life and experience, I reverence and love 
him, and to me he is above all criticism. The remem- 
brance of my indebtedness to him will never fade. 
His numerous published w^orks are a valuable addition 
to any library. 

Dr. Theodore L. Cuyler is an attractive preacher. 
I have known him for thirty-six years. In 1844 I first 
met him, at Princeton, when he was a theological stu- 
dent, I visited him in his first manse at Burlington, 
then many times in Trenton, afterwards in New York, 
when he was at the Market Street church, and since 
his settlement in the Lafayette Street church, Brook- 
lyn. Though for years I have known him intimately, 
I have seldom heard him preach. 

There are some ministers who commence their ser- 
mons in so striking a manner as to give promise of 
an intellectual and efiective discourse. It is disap- 
pointing to find that in the first few sentences you 
have heard the best of the sermon — all there is of it 
worth remembering; for the preacher soon begins to 
drift out into a sea of platitudes, and the conclusion 
becomes so lame and impotent that the effect is dis- 
couraging and unprofitable. Others begin in a puny 
style, and reach the height of their discourse about 
midway, and then descend to the puny style of the 
beginning, reminding you of the 

" King of France with twenty thousand men 
Marched up the hill and then marched down again." 

Dr. Cuyler secures the attention of the people at 



STRIKING EXORDIUM. 419 

first, starting, perhaps by a stirring illustration, or the 
relation of some fact or an allusion to some current 
event; but he holds his congregation to the end; and 
the conclusion only serves to impress on the heart 
and memory the truths he has uttered, and the pero- 
ration is often more striking than the exordium. I 
once heard him preach on Charity, when he began 
thus: "There was a mob at Jerusalem;" and after 
very graphically describing the martyrdom of Stephen, 
the dragging him out of the city, the stoning, until 
you almost saw the whole tragedy, he spoke of the 
bruised, broken body; and then most impressively 
said, " Hear him, ' Lord lay not this sin to their 
charge.' Tliafs charity I^"^ Then he gave a forcible 
exposition of the power and beauty of charity, rivet- 
ing the attention of the audience to the last word 
of the discourse. 

Dr. Cuyler is better known to me personally as a 
correspondent than as a preacher. I have read many 
of Horace '^Yalpole's letters, all of Cowper's that are 
published, a large proportion of Charles Lamb's, but 
in my opinion. Dr. Cuyler's letters, of which I have a 
large package, are superior to them all. If selections 
from his correspondence with different individuals for 
the last thirty-five years were published, they would 
constitute one of the most readable books of the sea- 
son. I often read passages from his letters to my 
friends, who always listen with delight. One I have 
nearly memorized by frequent perusal, written to me 
from his dismantled study in Trenton — the last letter 
he wrote in it; in which, calling up the precious mem- 
ories connected with the place he was leaving for- 
ever, he paints a charming picture of the faces of the 
dear friends who had been his guests, and with whom 
26 



420 FAITHFUL AKD TKUE, 

he had held sweet converse. From 1844 till now he 
has been my faithful friend, through evil as well as 
good report, in storm and sunshine, always loyal 
and true, and never failing in his fearless defence 
of the right. I hold him hi my heart as a brother 
beloved. 



CHAPTEE XXIX. 

OLD-TIME Amy MODERN PREACHERS. — WORDS WITH 
Am) WITHOUT SEIS^SE. 

Sheridan Knowles — Varied Pulpit Ministrations — Old-time Discourses 

— Quaint old Books — Travesty on the Little Busy Bee — The Pla- 
giarized Sermon — Sermon on the Slothful Man — " Awake Pesaltery- 
tree and Harp" — "Who were the Patriarchs?" — Grandiloquent 
Oratory — Exordium upon Intemperance — " Wrecked on the Tem- 
pestuous Sea " — The baneful Upas-Tree — The Drunkard's Career 
on the Broad Road — Peroration — The Nobleman's Speech and Ob- 
servations — Speech of an Agitator — " Bruce the King of England " 

— " Battles of Greasy and Potters " — " Pass round the Hat." 

HEEIDAN KJS'OWLES has been de- 
scribed as "a shrewd, sharp-looking 
old gentleman, who takes a text but 
remotely connected with his discourse. 
You listen with great interest at first. 
The speaker is apparently very argu- 
mentative, and nods his head at the 
conclusion of each sentence in a most 
decided manner, as if to intimate very con- 
siderably the best of the argument. Now this is all 
very well for five minutes, or even ten ; but lasting an 
hour — with no heads for you to remember — you 
naturally grow very weary. His sermons are bundles 
of little bits of arguments, tied up together as a heap 
of old sticks, and just as dry. He was but a very 
moderate preacher." 

How faithful a portrait of some of the preachers at 
this day, let some of the sufferers testify. I have 

421 




422 LOXa AND SHORT SERMOKS. 

occasionally heard from pulpits a string of common- 
places and bald truisms with no application. I have 
heard sermons, dry, without one word of help or 
comfort, without one particle of spiritual food to allay 
the heart-hunger, with no suggestive thoughts; bar- 
ren of ideas, as a dead stick is barren of leaves; and 
I have felt if I heard no preaching but that, my life 
would become a dull, dreary monotony, never rising 
above the plodding existence so utterly earthly. I 
have heard sermons from men entirely oblivious of 
grammar, who never studied the construction of a 
sentence, who were only learned in Bible lore, who 
had been taught in the school of Christ, that were as 
marrow to my soul ; for it was a presentation of the 
simple gospel from one who had experienced the re- 
sults of its application. 

After all, no one can please everybody. Some 
require learning and polish, a classic finish, lofty, 
stately, majestic; others, again, fancy piquancy, pa- 
thos; others prefer solemnity, grandeur, splendor, 
clear and commanding, or fire, fervor, passion, unc- 
tion; while others again require the deep, profound, 
massive, logical style. 

I suppose in the old times those who had been in the 
habit of hearing their divines preach two, three, and 
four hours, would not be content with a sermon of 
twenty or thirty minutes. Bishop Hall, with the 
eighty heads to his discourse; Baxter, with his one 
hundred and twenty; Mr. Lyle, with his thirty par- 
ticulars for fixing his theme on a right basis, and 
fifty-six more to illustrate it; and Mr. Drake, with 
one hundred and seventy parts to a sermon, in which 
he says he has passed over many very useful points, 
pitching only on those which comprehended the mar- 



ABSURD TITLES. 423 

row and substance, were all popular preachers. And 
yet in these days they would preach to empty pews, 
and, as Dr. Beecher once said to a very sparse con- 
gregation, the church would appear " like a burnt dis- 
trict." 

Many of those old divines were very quaint and 
witty, their sermons a treasury of good things ; while 
there were some whose quaintness and oddity led 
them into absurdities. A list of the titles of books 
and tracts circulated in the time of Cromwell we 
should consider ridiculous. I give a brief selection: 

" A Most Sweet, Delectable and Perfumed Nose- 
gay for the Saints To Smell At." 

" A Pair of Bellows to Blow off the Dirt cast on 
James Fry." 

" The Snuffers of Divine Love." 

'' Hooks and Eyes for Believers' Breeches." 

" High-heeled Shoes for Dwarfs iii Hohness." 

" Crumbs of Comfort for the Chickens of the Cove- 
nant." 

" A Sigh of Sorrow for the Sinners of Zion, breathed 
out of a hole in an earthen vessel, known among men 
by the name of Samuel Fish." 

With all this absurdity, the men who wrote these 
discourses possessed power, but we have occasionally 
the absurdity without the power. I would not ridi- 
cule any attempt of any man to do good who was at 
all qualified for his work; but those men who are 
utterly unqualified to become teachers of the people, 
and assume the responsibility of such a position, are 
fair subjects for criticism. 

I remember gomg to church on one occasion, ex- 
pecting to hear a celebrated preacher. To our great 
disappointment we were told that he was unable to be 



424: elocutio:n- for boys. 

present, but that a minister who was in the town on a 
visit would preach. I shall never forget my sensa- 
tions when this gentleman came into the pulpit. He 
was very tall, his hair brushed straight up from his 
forehead. He had a very long neck, rather red in 
color; a pair of green spectacles with side glasses, 
and a boil on his nose. As he rose to his almost in- 
terminable length, we could hardly repress a smile. 
The text was, "For it is appointed unto men once 
to die." There was not a suggestion, nor a thought; 
no intellectual stimulus, but a dreary platitude, with 
no more connection of ideas than in the youth's essay 
on " Elocution." The boy was told not to be diffuse, 
but to lay down his proposition fairly, and come to 
the point at once. PTe delivered himself of this splen- 
did effort : " Elocution is a good thing for boys. Hence 
the immortality of the soul ! " But this man was dif- 
fuse, without any points, as if he had taken for the 
basis of his remarks, " How doth the little busy bee 
improve the shining hour," &c., and treated it thus : 

" My friends, the subject under consideration is a 
bee. Not only is it a bee, but we are informed it is a 
husy bee. JSTot only is it a busy bee, but it is a little 
busy bee. Not only is it a little busy bee, but, my 
friends, it is a little busy bee that doth, Mark, it is a 
bee, not a swarm of bees, of which the poet writes. 
It is a hitsy bee, not a drone in the hive. It is a little 
busy bee, not a great bumble-bee that knocks his head 
against the window. Then the little busy bee doth. 
"What doth it? is an important question. First, it im- 
proves. What doth it improve — itself or some other 
person? It improves an hour. What hour? A shin- 
ing hour. What shining hour? moonshine, or sun- 
shine, or starshine, or all hours? It cannot be all, for 



BORROWED SERMON. 425 

we are informed it is a shining hour; singular, not 
plural. We must step a little in advance to settle the 
question. Ah, here it is ! ' He gathers honey all the 
day ! ' Therefore it must be in the sunshine." And 
so on, to the end of the verse. And then: "Hence 
we perceive." I would as soon hear the boy's propo- 
sition and conclusion. 

I once asked a minister who was rather celebrated 
for his poetry, how he could find time for so much 
rhyme, and prepare two sermons each week for his 
people. " Oh," he said, " my sermons don't trouble 
me ; I just think of a text, and then I have my refer- 
ences, you know." 

Once, after hearing a sermon, I asked some friends 
who were with me, to listen while I read them some 
portions of a very interesting work. As I proceeded, 
some one said, "We heard that this morning; " and 
we found the morning sermon was ^ taken bodily from 
the work I was reading. 

I heard a sermon from the text in Proverbs, "I 
went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard 
of the man void of understanding; " and we had 
twenty minutes of suppositions : " Solomon might 
have been riding in his chariot; he might have been 
going to Gilgal; he might have been in the company 
of his courtiers ; he might have been taking his exer- 
cise; he might have been on horseback; " and so on, 
to an interminable and unprofitable extent. 

A gentleman told me of a minister who boasted 
that he never studied, but was always led^ who con- 
stantly quoted: "It shall be given you in that day 
what ye shall say." He never selected his text be- 
forehand, but always took the first passage his eye 
rested on after he opened the Bible. On one occa- 



426 PESAI.TERY-TREE. 

sion, when he opened the Book, his eye rested on the 
text: "Awake psaltery and harp!" And he pro- 
nounced the _p, and added a couple of syllables to it, 
and read: 

" Awake pesaltery-tree and harp." 

He had never heard of such a thing before, and 
hardly knew what to make of it; but there it was, and 
he put a brave face on it, and said: 

" Yes, my friends, it is a pesaltery-tree. This was 
a tree that growed in the region where David lived. 
It had branches and leaves and roots. I do not know 
whether it bore no fruit, but it was a pesaltery-tree. 
Now, the circumstances under which this 'ere text was 
writ was just this 'ere : David was very fond of laying 
in bed in the morning, which is a very bad practice, 
my friends. And one day he told his man to call him 
up at four o'clock in the morning, and he called him ; 
and he got up, and it was a beautiful morning; and 
he opened the winder, and there was a pesaltery-tree 
a-growing outside ; and he got out of that winder, and 
sat on one of the branches of that 'ere pesaltery-tree ; 
and while he sat there, he told his man to bring him 
his harp; and when he got it, he played, "^ Awake 
pesaltery-tree and harp ; ' and that's the origin of this 
'ere text." Then came a discourse on the advantages 
of getting up early in the morning. 

I was introduced to a man who, when he preached 
and had no ideas, would shout and roar, and use his 
voice to the utmost extent of its power. Once he was 
at a great loss for ideas, and he shouted out with vio- 
lent gestures: "There were the patriarchs; yes, the 
patriarchs, my friends. They were the patriarchs. 
"Who were the patriarchs, I ask, who were they? 
"Who were they — these patriarchs? Again I ask, 



ORATIONS AND POETRY. 427 

who were they? Why, niy friends, Jacob was one 
of them — Jacob was. Jacob was a patriarch — a 
patriarch, — and he had twelve sons ; and every one 
of these 'ere sons was a boy, my friends ! " 

These may be very ridiculous specimens, and per- 
haps overdrawn. I did not originate them; I give 
them as they were related to me. 

I here insert two specimens of oratory, one the 
grandiloquent, the other the effeminate. 

I have a volume entitled, " Orations and Poetry on 
Moral and ReUgious Subjects," printed and published 
at Albany, with a portrait of the author, from Avhich 
I make some extracts. 

Here is the exordium to the oration on intemper- 
ance : 

" Man, ever since his fall in the garden of Eden, has been inspired 
with a spirit of deviation from righteousness, which often increases his 
misery. His imaginations are only evil continually, — laying structures 
of wretchedness and woe; and hewing out vessels that can hold no 
water. Such is his digression from the requirements of God, that he is 
a stranger to virtue, and lies buried in the open field of his pollution. 
But among all his wicked inventions, King Alcohol is the topmost 
stone." 

Of the drunkard, the author says: 

" The strong man became palsied, and began to reel to and fro under 
the influence of the scourging waves. Their frail barks were now toss- 
ing on the tempestuous sea of life. At last their vessels sprung a 
leak, and foundered in liquid flames. 

"This is the rock on which thousands split, and their frail barks 
plunge into the awful cataract of death. The losses by intemperance are 
almost supernumerary, and past the description of man. . . . The ele- 
ment in which he moves is poisoned by his noxious breath, and he spreads 
malignant contagion wheresoever he leaves his meandering vestige." 

Of the liquor-seller, the author says : 

"Those dealers in alcohol will yet, for the love of gold, sell to their 
brethren the baneful Upas-tree, and keep up the stool-pigeons of mortal 
attraction, that they may destroy the unwary and feast on the purchase 
of theii* blood." 



428 GRANDILOQUENT PERORATION. 

The drunkard's career is thus forcibly described: 

" The drunkard's career is on the broad road to ruin. The stream in 
which he first embarks may appear small and but little dangerous ; yet it 
empties into a boundless ocean, and conveys her votaries to the wailings 
of the second death! The intemperate are seldom reclaimed. Their 
condition is almost hopeless ; for when they begin their voyage, they sel- 
dom cease, until they launch into the dark profundity obscure, from 
whence no traveller returns. Their consciences are seared with perfect 
inveteracy ; they bid defiance to all men, although admonished with deep- 
est commiseration and sensitive gratitude. They are governed by an 
enemy that knows of no condescension ; who is fettering them stronger 
to that hold, which shall prove a baseless fabric, sinking beneath her 
builders, and leave them as fuel for that flame of wrath, which survives 
the dissolution of worlds, and is perpetuated by the vengeance of an 
angry Deity." 

The peroration contains the following sentences : 

'* Seed-time and harvest shall come and pass away. The hill and the 
valley shall smile with the luxuries of man. The cargoes of emporium 
shall float on the blue waves, and waft along the shores of the sublime 
highlands. The bells of minarets and bastions shall chime the midnight 
peal. The drunken revelries shall increase the history of death; and the 
baneful Upas-tree shall spread over all lands. The retreats of pollution, 
where King Alcohol waves his banner, shall swell the dirge of woe. The 
sound of the harp and viol shall chant the passions of youth ; and the 
chandeliers of theatres, like terrestrial suns, shall deceive the unwary 
traveller. The card and the throw of the dice, where souls are stamped 
for eternity, shall tell man's future history. The army of inebriates shall 
increase, ere they plunge the Jordan of death, to wait the resurrection 
fires and the direful woes of the final judgment. In all these scenes of 
pollution, man seems silent, as if at death he closed his eyes in eternal 
sleep. But suddenly the voice of the archangel splits the sapphire vault 
above, and comes trumping down the eternal avenue with a mighty clan- 
gor, such as the world never knew." 

I give the reported speech of a nobleman who was 
requested to offer a toast at a dinner given for the 
benefit of a free hospital. He rose with the yearly 
report of the institution in his hand, and said: 

*' Gentlemen! Ahem! I— I— I rise to say. That is — I wish to propose 
a toast. Gentlemen, I think that you'll all say — ahem! I think, at 



"lend me your ears." 429 

least, that this toast is, as you'll say, the toast of the evening — toast of 
the evening. Gentlemen, I belong to a good many of these things, and I 
say, gentlemen, that this hospital requires no patronage ; at least, you 
don't want any recommendation. You've only got to be ill — got to be 
ill. Another thing, they are all locked up — I mean, they are shut up 
separate — that is, they've all got separate beds." 

Then putting up his eye-glass and looking at the 
paper, he continued: 

"Now, gentlemen, I find by the report which I hold in my hand, — I 
find, gentlemen, that from the year seventeen — no, eighteen, — no — ■ 
ah, yes — I'm right, eighteen hundred and fifty — no, it's a three — thirty- 
six — eighteen hundred and thirty-six — no less than one hundred and 
ninety- three millions — no — ah ! eh ! What ? — oh yes ! " 

Some one whispered to him. 

" Thank you, thank you! Yes! one hundred and ninety-three thousand 
two millions, — no — two hundred and ninety-three thousand two hun- 
dred and thirty-one. Gentlemen, I beg to propose ' Success to the In- 
stitution.' " 

Some thirty years ago a speech was reported as de- 
livered by an itinerating orator to a mob of rioters 
assembled in front of a gentleman's mansion in War- 
wickshire, England, where they had gathered for the 
purpose of committing violence and doing damage, 
in the days of mob outrage and riot. I give it as a 
reported specimen, whether exaggerated or not I do 
not know. 

"Gents, partisans, and much-suffering hoperatives : — I would say to 
you what Julius Ceesar said to the Romans after he had stabbed Mark 
Antony in the cause of liberty, at the siege of Troy — ' Lend me your 
hears.' This same sacred cause of liberty has brought me 'ere, has 
brought you 'ere, has brought your wives 'ere, has brought your little uns 
'ere. Let us do or die, as Robert Bruce the king of England said 
to Mary Queen of Scots, at the battle of Bannockburn. That battle was 
fought for liberty; and, gents, we 'ave a battle to fight too, against 
the 'eartless harristocracy. Gents, you are now on the right spot. 
The foe you 'ate is before you, as Tom Moore says in his 'Pleasures 
of 'ope.' Look at his proud castle frowning o'er — ahem — the deep 
— ahem — that is — I mean — frowning o'er us all. Within its walls 
is titled hinsolence, bloated vealth, and hoverbearing hextravagance. 



430 THE BATTLES OP "GREASY AN^D POTTERS." 

Gents, we must, we shall be 'eard. Our 'aughty tyrants shall bite the 
dust. They conquered us at 'Astings, when the Black Prince invaded 
Hengland at the Revolution, and brought in Norman hinsolence ; but, 
gents, who 'ave been the hassertors of Hengland's freedom but men of 
our class? Who was it forced King John and his runagate barons 
to give us Magna Charta but honest Jack Cade? Who was it shot a 
harrow at King Richard — the curdy lion — but Wat Tyler the black- 
smith ? Who fought under King Hedward the battles of Greasy and 
Potters but the cooks and scullions of Hengland? Who delivered our 
children and wives from Crook-backed Richard, who smothered 'elpless 
hinfancy in the Tower, but Mr. Henry Tudor, a gent from Wales — not 
much better than us? Who hindered the Pope from burning 'Enery the 
Eighth and his six wives for bigamy, but Cardinal Volsey, a butcher? 
Who was Holliver Cromwell but a brewer, and did not he cut off King 
Charles's 'ead ven he had pulled him by the hears out of the royal hoak, 
vere he vos a-hiding the Magna Charta from the people? Vos not 
Bacon a lord, and didn't he pick a gent's pocket? Vos not Shakspeare 
a poacher, and didn't he write sermons in stones? Yos not Burns an 
Irish ploughman, and didn't he write the ' Loves of the Hangels ' ? 
Gents, these are facts from the wollum of our country's 'istory. These 
show the degeneracy of the harristocracy. They may stand on a 'aughty 
helevation, and may cry in the words of ' Omer, the Greek poet, ' Hodi 
profanum wulgus et hareco,'' which means, ' The common sort may go and 
be hanged ; ' — but we will hanswer them with a line found by Mr. Layard 
on the left paw of the winged lion, during his recent exhalations among 
the ruins of Nincom-something, in Abyssinia. This line is in the 
Chinese language, and runs thus, ' Wax populi, wox Dei.'' It was written 
by King Belshazzar the night his palace was burned by Alexander the 
Great when he was drunk. These words signify, ' Down with the Peer- 
age, and hup with the people!' Men of Warwick, I have done. Never 
say die till the banners of Liberty, Confraternity, and Equality — cheap 
beef, bread for nothing, and beer for the asking, float over your 'appy 
'omes and 'ouses. ' Wox populi, wox Dei ! ' The hat will now go round 
for a collection." 



CHAPTEK XXX. 



CHUECH SERYICES. — lEPtEYERElvrCE, BUFFOONEEY, 
A^n) CANT. 



Ridiculous Side of iSTegro Preaching — Absurd Mistakes — The Planta- 
tion Preacher — " Glad Tidings and Hallelujah " — The Dirty Boy — 
Church Services — Singing in Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle ; and in 
Dr. Parker's Church — The D. D.'s Stratagem — The Scotchman's 
Experience — " Don't sing, Sir " — Hymns of my Boyhood — Muti- 
lated Hymns — Irreverence of Hymnology — Revivalists' Buffoonery 
— The Name above every Name — Christian IiTcverence — Pious 
Cant — More Puritanism needed — The Christian Ideal and its Oppo- 
site — Possible Putm-e Pulpit Notices. 



SEEMO^N" or a lecture may contain 
mnch that is absurd, and yet not be 
altogether unprofitable. Some of the 
negro preaching has a ridiculous side, 
while there are few persons who might 
not profit by the lessons taught. I 
heard a plantation preacher some years 
who used the most extravagant ex- 
pressions, and mispronounced and mis- 
placed his words, forcibly reminding us of the negro, 
who said, when some one threw a brick at him 
while preaching, " Dat man what frowed dat brick is 
guilty ob an act ob moral turpentine ; " or of another, 
who said of a little girl Avho had fallen down stairs 
and struck her head violently: "She getten on; de 

431 




432 "six caliker hosses." 

doctor has had her japanned ! " A preacher has been 
reported in one of our rehgious papers as readmg the 
line, 

*' God moves in a mysterious way," 

as, 

** God moves in a mischievous way ; " 

and, 

" Judge not the Lord by feeble saints," 

instead of " feeble sense." Not a very improper 
alteration. 

But to the plantation preacher. He began by say- 
ing: 

" Bredren, I shall take two texes, — ' Glad tidings,' 
and ' Hallelujah! ' " Soon he asked, " What is glad 
tidings, bredren? I'll tell ye what glad tidings am. 
Suppose dar was a king in a chariot, and six caliker 
bosses, like wat dey hab in de sukkus, a-prancing and 
a-tossing up dar heads, and de soldiers and ossifers 
marching by the side ob de chariot, and dar's a little 
boy standing on de corner ob de street as de perces- 
sion goes by. Dish 'ere boy is ragged and dirty; his 
bar sticking frough de holes in his cap; he ain't got 
no shoes, — nobody keers for dat boy ; he ain't got no 
fader, no mudder, no aunty; and he's looking on to 
see de Mng, and de caliker bosses, and de ossifers, and 
de soldiers ; — when de king he stops de chariot, and 
says to one ob dem ossifers, ' Bring dat boy to me ! ' 

" ' Dat boy 's all dirt.' 

" ^ Bring dat boy to me ! ' 

" ' But you'll ketch sumfin off dat boy.' 

" Den de king got mad, and his face lifted up on 
de top of Ms head like a coffee-pot lid, and he hollered 
as loud as he could holler: 

" ' Bring dat boy to me ! ' 



"time for DE second TEX." 433 

" Den de ossifer bring dat boy, and de king say : 

" ' Take dat boy and git him measured for some 
clothes, and get him a cap, and some shoes, and cut 
his har and wash him, put him in de barf, and den 
send him to de school like de white folks go.' 

" Wall, all dis is done 'cording to de king, wat he 
tell de ossifer; and when dat boy was clean, and his 
har comb, and he got de eddification, den dat king 
come by again, wid de caliker bosses, and de soldiers 
and de ossifers, and he says, ' Where's dat boy? ' and 
dey bring de boy, and nobody knowd him; but de 
king he knowd him, and say : 

" ' My child, come up into de chariot. I 'dopt you; 
you is my heir.' 

" Now, wouldn't dat be glad tidings to dat boy? " 

Then came the application: God's love to sinners, 
cleaning them, teaching them, and making them heirs 
of God, joint-heirs with Jesus Christ, by adoption. 
And when he came to the climax, he said: 

" N"ow, bredren, is de time for de second tex, ' Hal- 
lelujah,' and ye may jess shout much as ye're a-mhid 
to." 

With all the oddity of that discourse, I never heard 
a plainer exhibition of gospel truth, one better adapted 
to the comprehension of the hearers than this. 

Discussing ministers leads naturally to church ser- 
vices. I venture my opinion. I prefer congregational 
singing to selected choirs, and especially to quartettes. 
This may be but a matter of taste, and some persons 
may say bad taste at that; but still to me there is 
something grand in the union of a thousand voices in 
a song of praise. At Mr. Spurgeon's Tabernacle, in 
London, there is neither choir nor organ; but the 
singing of six thousand persons is very impressive. 



434 THE CHOIR DID WELL. 

At Dr. Parker's church, in the same city, there is a 
choir for occasional pieces, and to steady and lead the 
singing of the people. I think this is all right; but 
the people should be encouraged to sing as part of 
divine worship, in which they may profitably and de- 
lightfully partake. Dr. Chalmers, preaching in a 
fashionable church, once complained because no one 
in the congregation sung the praises of God except 
those who were paid for it. 

A celebrated Scotch doctor of divinity was invited 
to preach where no singing was heard but by the 
choir. He gave out to be sung the Hundredth 
Psalm : 

" All people that on earth do dwell, 

Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice ; 
Him serve with mirth, His praise forth tell, 
Come ye before Him and rejoice." 

To the doctor's surprise, nobody but the choir 
opened their lips, and when they had concluded the 
performance, he rose, and good-humoredly said: " The 
choir have done very well; let the congregation and 
me try it next." And so saying, he raised in fine style 
the solemn tune of " Old Hundred." The result was 
that before the first stanza was ended, the whole con- 
gregation had caught the enthusiasm of their leader, 
and sent up a very shout of praise to heaven in the 
appropriate words of the psalm; and they found it to 
be so heart-stirring an experience, when compared 
with their previous habits of being mere listeners, that 
they never afterwards abstained so generally from 
joining in the psalmody. 

A Scotch gentleman, on a visit to England, thus 
gives his experience : " I was taken on Sunday by an 
English friend to one of the national churches. The 



AN unpleasa:n^t snxtb. 435 

first sounds that saluted my ears were the solemn 
peals and ' grave, sweet melody ' of the organ. It is 
probable that at no distant period this instrument will 
be introduced into some of the Presbyterian churches 
in Scotland, where there is a growing taste for good 
music set in. The opposition to it surely cannot rest 
on scriptural grounds, so long as the Psalms of David 
form a part of the sacred volume. The singing in 
this place of worship was also very beautiful ; and as 
I knew something of the tune that was first sung, I 
began to accompany the band, or choir, but had no 
sooner made my voice audible — which is not consid- 
ered disagreeable in my own country — than the man 
who sat next me gave me a hard punch in the side 
with his elbow, accompanied by the command, ' Don't 
sing, sir ; ' and at the same time I was frowned upon 
by the portly, gowned seat-keeper, who happened to 
pass at the time, which I had no reason to doubt con- 
veyed to me the same unreasonable rebuke. I thus 
understood that my business here was to be a listener, 
as in a theatre; and before the assembly was dismissed, 
a female, who I was informed is a performer in the 
opera-house, stood up alone, and sang a song to the 
admiring crowd." 

"When I was a boy, I learned a large number of 
hymns, so many that I could repeat them for hours. 
I suppose I had committed to memory three hundred 
hymns. They became to me old friends. When 
alone, I occasionally repeat them. They have often 
been my companions in the night-time, and I grieve 
to meet one of these hymns of my boyhood mutilated, 
as I would to see an old friend scarred and deformed. 
To show how shamefully some of the precious hymns 
have been mutilated, and their beauty and almost 
27 



436 TINKERED HYMNS. 

their sense have been destroyed, I give specimens from 
three of my favorites. 

** Look how we grovel here below, 
Fond of these earthly toys ; 
Our souls how heavily they go 
To reach eternal joys," 

has been mutilated thus : 

" Our souls can neitJier fly nor go 
To reach eternal joys." 

The person who changed that must have been grovel- 
ling here below. 

Another specimen is in that fine old hymn — 

"My God! the spring of all my joys." 

The second verse, as I learned it, and as my mother 
sang it, was : 

*♦ In darkest shades, if Thou appear. 
My dawning is begun ; 
Thou art my soul's bright morning star, 
And Thou my rising sun." 

Some irreverent meddler has changed this to — 

*' In darkest shades, if He appear, 
My dawning is begun ; 
He is my soul's siveet morning star. 
And He my rising sun." 

Who ever heard of a sweet star, any more than of a 
sweet cataract, or the sweet sun! To me it is lacka- 
daisical. 

That beautiful hymn — 

*' Jesus, and shall it ever be, 
A mortal man ashamed of Thee; 
Ashamed of Thee, whom angels praise. 
Whose glory shines through endless days " — 

is outrageously mutilated; the grandeur and beauty 



DOGGEREL RHYMES. 437 

utterly destroyed in the first verse. Think of this 
and weep. 

** Jesus, and shall it ever be, 
A mortal man ashamed of Thee? 
Scorned he the thought hy rich and poor^ 
Oh, may I scorn it more and more ! " 

Here I fail in utterance when I would express my 
contempt for such a change. I cannot do justice to 
the subject. "Why will not these hymn-tinkers prac- 
tise on something less sacred and precious than the 
old-time noble hjnuns? 

Another objection to a certain style of hymnology 
is its irreverence, — the sacred name of Jesus so flip- 
pantly used, with absurd repetition of that name, to 
meet the requirements of some jingling rhyme. 

*' I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me ; 
I am so glad that Jesus love me, loves me," — 

is a specimen. I express my own opinion, contrary 
perhaps to the opinion of others. But I believe the 
singing of such doggerel, in which the Saviour's name 
is introduced in useless repetition, tends to foster an 
irreverence which is unbecoming. Then the pointless 
repetition, 

** Come to Jesus, come to Jesus, come to Jesus 
Just now. Just now come to Jesus ; 
Come to Jesus just now." 

I heard from good authority that a certain revival- 
ist, at the commencement of a series of meetings, 
proposed that while some of the brethren retired for 
some consultation, he would interest the people by 
singing, and he commenced singing this doggerel. 
The conference was longer than he expected; and, 
growing weary of the singing, he called out to the 
friends in the vestry : 



438 I^TAME HIGH OVEE ALL. 

^^ Hurry up, hurry up, brethren; I can't keep the 
people coming to Jesus all night ! " 

I protest against such irreverence. 

"Who is this of whom he speaks so flippantly? 
Read the description of Him: 

" His eyes were as a flame of flre, and on His head 
were many crowns, and He had a name written that 
no man knew but He Himself, and He was clothed 
wdth a vesture dipped in blood, and His name is called 
the "Word of God." Again : " He hath on His vesture 
and on His thigh a name written, ' King of kings, and 
Lord of lords.' " " His name shall be called "Wonderful, 
Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, 
the Prince of Peace ; " and He is " the mystery of 
Godliness, God manifest in the flesh." " At the name 
of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue con- 
fess Him to be Lord, to the glory of God the 
Father." 

And this is He whose name is introduced into dog- 
gerel, and sung to a jingling tune. I prefer Wesley's 
hymn : 

'* Jesus, the name high over all, 
In hell, or earth, or sky; 
Angels and men before it fall. 
And devils fear and fly." 

I have been told that we should recognize the hu- 
manity of Christ, that He is our elder brother. Most 
fully do I accept Him in His humanity as my sympa- 
thizing Saviour and friend, who was tempted as I am. 
He was all this to His disciples, who lived and walked 
with Him; but they called Him "Kabbi," ^^ Master," 
'' Lord." At the last feast He said to His disciples : 
" Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say well, for so 
I am; " and this when He had just washed their feet. 



RELIGIOUS TLIPPANCT. 439 

The disciple whom Jesus loved, while lying on His 
breast on that memorable occasion, in all the intimacy 
of personal friendship, called Him " Lord." I cannot 
but consider the flippant manner in which some use 
His sacred name to be irreverent. 

Then there is a religious phraseology that amounts 
to cant. When I receive a letter saluting me as " My 
fellow-sinner," I always expect four pages of cant, 
introducing " The Lord " as if the writer was famil- 
iarly acquainted with Him. I could give you many 
specimens of this religious gush, but I forbear. A 
gentleman who " dear-brothered " me, and talked 
about the Lord in a whining tone till I was weary, 
told me he had not committed sin for six months. I 
told him I did not believe it, when he became quite 
angry, and I thought came very near sinning in his 
expressions of wrath. 

While I am not inclined particularly to what is 
called Puritanism, I have an idea that if we had a 
little more of the spirit and practice of Puritan times, 
the churches would be stronger and more successful in 
their warfare on sin. We can hardly attack that with 
which we fraternize. I wish neither to be critical, nor 
to set up my judgment in reference to the laxity of 
church discipline, but I fear we are spending more 
time in discussing what we may or may not do, than 
in considering what we ought to do; how far we may 
conform to the customs and amusements of the world 
without violating our covenant vows, or how much 
we may compromise with the world and hold our 
position in the church. 

Jesus Christ said to his disciples, " I have chosen 
you out of the world." We seem to be ignoring that ; 
and I ask, what amusement or pursuit is there fol- 



440 SUPPOSED PULPIT iNTOTICE. 

lowed by the unbeliever, that is not followed or de- 
fended by some Christians? Cards, dancing, theatres, 
operas, wine and hquor drinking, gambling, all these 
are patronized and defended by some who are mem- 
bers of Christ's body — the Church. I have witnessed 
the solemn service of admitting new members into 
the church, and heard those received assent to the 
doctrines and covenant, in which act they promised to 
follow the Lord Christ; and I have sometimes imag- 
ined them at the theatre, at the card-table, or in the 
ball-room, notwithstanding their solemn vows in this 
impressive service, and the idea seemed so inconsist- 
ent as to become revolting. 

Perhaps we are becoming more liberal and less 
scriptural ; but I own it would be a strange thing to 
hear from among the pulpit notices one read like the 
following : 

" There will be a prayer-meeting next "Wednesday 
evening, at half-past seven, to last an hour, after which 
there will be a social dance in the church parlors. 

" The Whist Club will meet at Brother White's. 
Wine, spirits, and cigars will be furnished. Only 
whist, euchre, and seven-up will be permitted: for we 
must draw a line somewhere. 

" On Saturday afternoon, the Dramatic Society of 
the Sunday school will rehearse, previous to giving a 
public exhibition. The play will be the ' School for 
Scandal^ revised by the superintendent. 

"We propose omitting our usual Thursday lecture, 
as the opera company from N^ew York will give a 
grand performance, and the members of our choir are 
engaged for the chorus at the theatre on that evening. 

" Our usual monthly lottery for the Sabbath-school 
library will be drawn at eight o'clock on Tuesday 
evening. All are invited to attend. 



CURIOUS PROaRAMMB. 441 

" A fair will be held on the 15th inst., in our church 
parlors, to raise funds for a new billiard-table in the 
gymnasium of the church. There will be several at- 
tractions : raffling for some very elegant articles ; also 
the grab-bag particularly provided for the children. 
We hope to see a large attendance. "We will now re- 
sume our service by singing, 

* Far jfrom my thoughts, vain world, begone.' " 

This may be an awful exaggeration of what might 
be. Very well ; let it be so. I give a verbatim bill 
of the performances for the organ fund of a Congre- 
gational church in England. It is prefaced by a let- 
ter to the editor of the Fountain j from which I copy 
it. The letter is as follows : 

" Sir ; I send you a copy of a programme of an entertainment for the 
organ fund of a Congregational church, in the north of England. 

*' I do not know how you may look upon it ; but I, in common with 
several friends, regard it as a very questionable way of raising money 
for the support of a Christian church. 

"The distinction that ought to exist betwixt the church and the 
world is entirely ignored, and for the time being the maxims and policy 
of the world reign supreme. 

" The true church possesses the only remedy for the woes and sorrows 
of sin-stricken humanity ; but this remedy will not be found in enter- 
tainments more suitable for a low music saloon than for a Christian 
church. 

" Hoping you will use your pen in reproving the evil, and show church- 
members and ministers their true work and mission in the world, I am, 
yours respectfully, ." 

« COI^GREGATIONAL CHURCH. 

" The public are respectfully informed that there will be held in the 
Town Hall, a Sale of Work, Wax Work, Entertainment, Promenade Con- 
cert, High Art Exhibition, and ' Trial by Jury.' Admission : To Sale of 
Work, Qd; to Wax Work, U:' 

" gra:n^d wax- work exhibition. 

" Under the distinguished patronage of General Holiday, General 
Laughter, General Uproar, and the General Public, will be exhibited 
the most marvellous collection of Living Wax Works in the world never 



442 JOKES EXPLAINED. 

shown out of London, in the preparing of which every expense has been 
spared. 

" The whole figures are too innumerable to mention, but the following 
— wind and weather permitting — will be some of the first to arrive : 

"The Prince and Princess of Wales (in native costume), from a photo 
by Blackhead, taken in Mary Land. 

" Mary, Queen of Cullercoats, singing ' Buy my Caller Herring.' 

"Professor Edison, the inventor of the electric light, discoverer of the 
Edison Lighthouse, and other edifying animals ; with brilliant examples 
of the light. 

" The pale-faced author of Cockle's pills. 

"Mrs. Allan (the anti-fat one), not the hair-restorer. 

"Signor Frioline (English, 'Bill Fry '), or man-fish, recently sold at 
Tynemouth Aquarium: together with the kitchen-utensils and season- 
ticket holders, kindly lent by a defunct director for this night only. 

" Girl of the period. 

" Geordie, in full evening dress. 

" Guy Fawkes (not of gunpowder renown). 

"A jubilee singer (composer of 'My Grandfather's Clock'). 

" John Pitch, alias Jack Tar, doing a real iron-clad break-down horn- 
pipe, with tobacco accompaniment. 

" Widows of the late Brigham Young. 

"The Japanese juggler, or jumping Jesuit of the jointless jungle. 

" Doctor Spruce, author of ' Notions of the Motions of the Oceans,' 
•Durham Gas Pipes,' &c., &c. 

" Little Zulus, in birthday suits. 

" Dick Whittington and his cat, with a catalogue of their catastrophes, 
and an account of the mice she catched. Lewis Paine, the spiritualistic 
murderer, and the painful results arising therefrom. 

" A father's blessing, one penny. A mother's warning, tuppence. 

" Notice. — This marvellous exhibition, bear in mind, will not parade 
the town each day at one o'clock, headed by a cracked brass band, but 
will discourse sweet music from a really playful organ-man during the 
entertainment. 

"Telescopes, opera-glasses, weather-glasses, wine-glasses, and spec- 
tacle-cases on hire, by application at the door. 

" Admission. — Tickets to be obtained at post office, police office, 
register office, telegraph office, or by payment at the door, especially the 
latter. Reserved seats (which persons are requested to bring with them), 
Is. Second seats, GcZ. Gallery free. Cabs (Brown's, or any other man's), 
wheelbarrows, perambulators, milk carts, to be ordered at 11.60 p. M. 

" Trains. — The local trains will be run as usual, and the railway 
station ought to be thoroughly cleaned for the occasion. Jokes not seen 
during the entertainment will be explained at 6 A. M, next evening. 

" The highly instructive explanations of the figures will be given by 
Professor Talkey, of Torkee (Torquay)." 



CHAPTER XXXI. 



MY VIEWS ON THE TEMPERANCE QUESTION. 



Drunkenness a Sin and a Disease — Is moderate Drinking a Sin? — My 
First Intoxication — Rum and Water in a Temperance Meeting — 
"Gentlemanly Inebriation "— The Intoxicated Boy — Pathology of 
Drunkenness — Testimony of Dr. Richardson — Destructive Effects 
of Alcohol on the Mind — Statement of Joseph Cook — Legend of 
the Triple Choice — The Sin is in the Cause, and not the Effect — 
Statements of Wm. Arnot, D.D. — Two Ways of keeping a Nation 
sober — Total- Abstinence as an Unfailing Remedy — Prevention 
better than Cure — The Giant's Hand — Drunkenness unnatural — 
Testimony of Distinguished Physicians — Case of the Hon. E. C. Han- 
negan — His former Useful Life — The Terrible Fall and Dissipation 
— The Murder. 



^WINGr to some misapprehensions as to 
my position in the temperance work, 
it becomes my duty to record some- 
what fully my opinions and define my 
position in reference to the temperance 
question. I may differ widely from 
some with whom I am glad to work; 
but my views are my own. Certain 
conclusions, after thirty-seven years' ex- 
perience, have been forced upon me. I shall not be 
dogmatical, or profess infallibility; but I shall express 
my views, opinions, and sentiments so that there can 
be no doubt where I stand. 

I consider drunkenness a sin, but I consider it also 
a disease. It is a physical as well as a moral evil. 

443 




444 OVERCOME BY DELNTOKa. 

Sin is defined by "Webster as " Transgression of the 
law of God; disobedience to the Divine command; 
any violation of God's will, either in purpose or con- 
duct; moral deficiency in the character; iniquity." 
Webster defines drunkenness as " The state of being 
drunken, or overpowered by alcoholic liquor; intoxi- 
cation; inebriety." Taking these definitions as cor- 
rect, I ask. When is drunkenness a sin? I speak of 
an actual sin, which is " the act of a moral agent in 
violating a known rule of duty, and to depart volun- 
tarily from the path of duty prescribed by God to 
men ; to violate the divine law, in any particular, by 
actual transgression." 

We will suppose a case. You are a Christian mod- 
erate drinker. You scout the idea of moderate drinking 
being a sin. To take one, two, or three glasses of wine 
a sin? No, certainly not! You sustain your practice 
by holy Scripture ; and I will agree, if you w^ish, that 
you do it conscientiously, and that you can ask God's 
blessing on the wine. You have it daily on the table. 
The minister of the church to which you belong coun- 
tenances its use. You have a son who has never 
tasted wine during his childhood. He is now fourteen 
or fifteen years of age, and you give him the wine. 
He becomes drunk, viz., " overcome by drinking, in- 
toxicated, inebriated." Does he commit sin? " Cer- 
tainly not," you say ; " he did not know what its efiect 
would be, nor did I! " Yery well; then it is a physi- 
cal inability to drink without inebriety. The first 
time I was intoxicated I drank with others ; I had no 
more idea of doing wrong in that act of drinking than 
in eating bread. I did as others did. It went to my 
head. I was inebriated. 

In the early days of my work, I was holding a 



A COWARDLY THICK. 445 

series of meetings in a village in New England. It 
was my custom then to speak for an hour or more, 
then sing temperance songs, and invite signers to the 
pledge. I used often to become excited. One even- 
ing I was very warm in the crowded room, and became 
thirsty. There was neither glass nor pitcher in the 
desk, and I asked, " Would some one be kind enough 
to procure some water?" After waiting some min- 
utes, a full pitcher was handed me. There being no 
glass, I hastily lifted the pitcher to my lips, and de- 
tected the odor of alcohol, and found it was a mixture 
of rum and water, and not very weak. Suppose in 
my excitement I had failed to detect the smell of the 
spirit, and not dreaming of such a cowardly trick, had 
drank the mixture and become inebriated ? There 
would be no sin in the drinking; but if I had detected 
and wilfully drank it, knowing the results, the act of 
drinking would have been a sinful one. 

You say, "A man who cannot drink moderately 
should let it alone." Granted ; but how will he know 
that he cannot drink without inebriety, unless he ex- 
periments; and in the experiment, if he becomes 
intoxicated, does he commit sin? "Ifo," you say. 
" But to get drunk is a sin." Now, I believe that 
when a man knows that the use of intoxicating 
liquors, or any other thing, is detrimental to his 
health, injurious to him in body or mind, hinders him 
in his useful labor, or is hurtful to him in any other 
way, and will, solely for his sensuous gratification, 
use it, then he commits sin. 

The difficulty may be, that your son, if he is of the 
nervous, susceptible temperament, may be so fasci- 
nated by the exhilaration and temporary exaltation, 
that when the remembrance of the pain and reaction 



446 THE FIRST mTOXICATION. 

has faded, the recollection of the enjoyment becomes 
more vivid, and he determines with caution to obtain 
again the pleasure, without making a " fool of himself 
by getting drunk." So he tries it again, and for the 
fleeting enjoyment he runs an awful risk, the risk 
being in proportion to the fascination of what is often 
termed "gentlemanly inebriation; " for every time he 
indulges, he loses power to resist, and therefore be- 
comes ensnared. 

A gentleman at my house told me that when he was 
ten years old, a young lady, out of fun, gave him 
some diluted whiskey, and enticed him to drink it. 
He drank, and became intoxicated. Said he : " I shall 
never forget coming out of that stupid sleep; I felt 
awfully. That is fifty-two years ago, and nothing 
could tempt me to touch a drop in all these years." 
A very wise decision. Did that boy commit sin? 

A dyspeptic who knows that a certain article of 
food is injurious, and who will for the sake of grati- 
fying the desire for that article of food, partake of it, 
commits sin. The sin is not in the dyspepsia, but 
in the wilful aggravation of the disease by self-indul- 
gence. 

Perhaps this is what is termed splitting hairs, but 
our opponents are constantly endeavoring to puzzle 
us by hair-splitting. Rheumatism is not a sin, but if 
I wilfully expose myself for my own gratification, 
when the sufiering comes I must or ought to bear it 
patiently, as a penalty for violated law. 

Do you compare drunkenness with dyspepsia or 
rheumatism? I make no comparisons. If you mean 
the simple act of drunkenness in endeavoring to as- 
certain whether you can drink with impunity, or the 
wilful perpetuation of dyspepsia or rheumatism by 



WILSOX'S PATHOLOGY. 447 

self-gratification, I should say that the least sin wae 
in the simple act of inebriety ; but if you ask whether 
habitual drunkenness is to be compared with these 
other evils, I say, a thousand times, that habitual 
drinking, with the knowledge that drunkenness will 
ensue, is a tenfold greater sin than any habit or act 
that brings on these other diseases. I say that the 
voluntary drinking is the sin, drunkenness is the 
result of the act; the cause of it is the drinking. 

Let no one suppose for a moment that I would pal- 
liate the evil of drunkenness — occasional or habitual; 
but while we condemn the effect, let us condemn also 
the cause. The whole civilized world is groaning 
under the awful results of intemperance in the use of 
intoxicating liquors; a large proportion of the crime, 
lunacy, suicides, pauperism, being caused by it. Look 
at its effects on the victim! "Wilson's Pathology of 
Drunkenness " is a most vivid and fearful revelation 
of the progress from conviviality to casual and habit- 
ual intoxication, and the constitutional and mental 
results. He tells us that disturbance of the circula- 
tion, disorder of the functions of digestion, disease 
of the liver, of the kidneys, of the lungs, tubercular 
degeneration, mania a jpohi, hiccough, an acute prog- 
ress of decay, brain-disease, and apoplexy, are some 
of the constitutional results ; and " loss or confusion 
of memory, mental aberration, delirium, lunacy, and 
suicide are some of the mental results. The springs 
of life are tainted at their source, and their currents 
diffusing themselves everywhere through the system, 
the one as the basis of vitality, the other as the origin 
of its leading phenomena, leave the traces of their 
altered qualities everywhere apparent." 

Dr. Richardson says: 



448 AN OLD LEGE:tn). 

" If I were to take you through all the passions that remain to be 
named, — love and lust, hate and envy, avarice and pride, — I should but 
show you that alcohol ministers to them all ; that, paralyzing the reason, 
it takes from all these passions that fine adjustment of reason which not 
only places man above the lower animals, but, when celestially attuned, 
places him little lower than the angels. 

" The demonstrative evidence of alcohol in its influence on the mind 
is then most clear. 

" From the beginning to the end of its influence it subdues reason and 
sets free passion. The analogies, physical and mental, are perfect. That 
which loosens the tension of the vessels which feed the body with due 
order of precision, and thereby lets loose the heart to violent excess of 
unbridled motion, loosens also the reason, and lets loose the passions. In 
both instances heart and head are for a time out of harmony, their bal- 
ance broken. The man descends closer and closer to the lower animals. 
From the angels he glides further and further away. 

" The destructive effects of alcohol on the human mind present, finally, 
the saddest picture of its influence. The most sesthetic artist can find no 
angel here. All is animal, and animal of the worst type. Memory irre- 
trievably lost, words and very elements of speech forgotten, or words 
displaced to have no meaning in them. Rage and anger, persistent and 
mischievous, or remittent and impotent. Fear at every corner of life, 
distrust" on every side, grief merged into blank despair, hopelessness into 
permanent melancholy. Surely no Pandemonium that ever poet dreamt 
of could equal that which would exist if all the drunkards of the world 
were driven into one mortal sphere." 

Joseph Cook says : 

" Harden the brain by drenching it with alcohol, and you harden the 
moral motive ; and, whatever disorganizes brain disorganizes character." 

Every one of the thousands of victuns who are, we 
fear, descending to the drunkard's grave, began with 
the first glass, and the whole evil is caused by drink- 
ing intoxicating liquor. It is an awful sin above all 
others. It is the promoter of all that is evil, of all 
that is vile and abominable. It solidifies and crystal- 
lizes, and makes chronic, every evil passion of de- 
praved human nature. 

I have read somewhere an old legend, in which a 
man was offered his choice of three voluntary acts : to 
murder his father, burn down his house, or get drunk. 



DRUNKENNESS A PENALTY. 449 

Laughingly he chose the latter, as that could not be 
very harmful. He got drunk. While in that state 
he became furious. Enraged at his father's attempt 
to control him, he struck him a blow with a hammer 
that lay near, and killed him ; then, filled with horror 
at the deed, he set fire to the house, thus to destroy 
the body and hide his crime. 

Drunkenness is a sin unlike others, in that it carries 
its penalty with it in the suffering and enslavement 
of its victim. It is but the penalty for violated law; 
the sin is not in the penalty, but in the violation of 
law. Ifow, is there no wrong in drinking, unless it 
produces what we call drunkenness or intoxication? 
If you mean by drunkenness a persistent use of alco- 
holic beverages, knowing all the consequences, then 
it is always and ever sin against the body, the mind, 
the soul, and society, and a grievous sin against God. 
But is there no sin in the intoxication that consists in 
mere exhilaration, elevation, or excitement; or even 
the slight confusion of thought, without staggering or 
stammering? If the brain is disturbed in its action 
and the power of the will weakened, or if the self- 
control is affected, the perception stimulated while its 
accuracy is destroyed; if the judgment is perverted. 
If the drinker will go where he would not go without 
it, say what he would not say without it, think as he 
would not think, and do as he would not do with- 
out it; though his utterance may not be thick, his 
eye may be clear, his gait steady, and no outward 
appearance giving evidence, — is he not in some de- 
gree tipsy, inebriated, drunk? 

Can a man steal a little, lie a little, swear a little, 
and be innocent? Are there any degrees by which 
you may measure the enormity or the veniality of 



450 ABSTrN:E:N^CE — peohibition. 

these practices? Is it a trifling thing to be tipsy, 
and a serious thing to get drunk? Where does the 
sin commence? I confess I am puzzled to get any 
reply to these questions. But what does it all amount 
to? Just this: I desire to fasten the sin where it be- 
longs — on the cause, not the effect. 

As I have stated on another page, the Bev. Wm. 
Arnot, at my request, gave me his opinions, on the 
liquor traffic, and I quote again from his manuscript: 

"There are two possible ways of making and keeping a nation sober. 
The result might be attained by the people voluntarily abjuring the use 
of intoxicating liquor, or by the legislature authoritatively prohibiting 
its manufacture and sale. The one is the principle of abstinence socie- 
ties ; the other is the principle of what is called the Maine Law. Under 
the one method, if fully carried out, there would be no drinkers ; and 
under the other, there would be no drink. Either operation, if complete, 
would effect a cure. If one instrument were thoroughly driven home, 
both would not be required. 

" If a choice were offered, we would prefer the former. We would 
rather see the blot of drunkenness wiped off by the spontaneous self- 
denial of the people than by an application of the ruler's power. This 
would indicate a better moral condition of the community, and the ex- 
ertion would react to increase the moral power that produced it. But 
in the present ruined and imperfect state of human affairs, it would be 
foolish to refuse a portion of the coarser material, when the supply of 
the finer article falls short. We are glad, on all accounts, to take in the 
first instance as much of voluntary abstinence as we can get ; but after 
all that this best method has yet done, or is likely to do, the Demon Vice 
possesses still a great multitude of the people, and deprives them of 
their right mind. For these circumstances, when we cannot get him 
cast out by the power of a people's virtuous will, we own we should be 
heartily glad to see him driven out by the strong arm of the law. 

" We have no desire to see a prohibitory law suddenly enacted before 
the people are prepared to support it. We do not desire to go before 
public opinion ; but we do desire to urge public opinion forward. People 
need not be afraid of a prohibitory law being enacted over the heads of 
a remonstrant community. Such a law will not be passed by the legis- 
lature, until the majority of the community desire it, and a good while 
after that. But whatever may be the prospect of an entirely prohibitory 
law being desired by the people of this country and enacted by Parlia- 
ment, there are various degrees of partial limitation possible and desir- 
able in the meantime. It is the part of practical wisdom to look to 
these. A greater number of persons may be induced to unite in obtain- 



I 



PEEVENTIO]^ BETTER THAN CUEE. 451 

ing them, and they will diminish the evil which they cannot eradicate. 
There may be limitations in the kinds of drink, in the number of sellers, 
in the duties imposed, in the price of license, in the terms of conducting 
the traffic. It is the duty of all good citizens, if they cannot knock the 
wild beast on the head, to join in the effort to give him a short and 
aye a shorter tether. 

*' A gi-eat boon in this direction has been obtained for Scotland in the 
recently enacted law for the regulation of public-houses. The measure 
deserves not absolute, but comparative praise. The thankfulness 
with which we receive it is caused less by its own inherent qualities 
than by the enormities which it supersedes. It is the exceeding badness 
of the former state of things that makes the present appear so good. 
Our rejoicing under the Public-House Act is like the rejoicing wherewith 
the inhabitants of a Turkish province learn the appointment of a new 
pasha who will only strip them of their treasures, and the dismissal of 
the old one who skinned them alive. A very execrable tyi'ant was that 
pasha who sat astride of the Scottish people to regulate the spirit 
traffic, previous to the 15th of May last.* Practically there seemed to be 
no limit to the number of public houses. Every man got a license who 
wanted it, every proprietor who thought his shop would let better for the 
sale of whiskey than for doing other business, contrived to get a friendly 
justice to attend to his interests on licensing-day. At every corner the 
spiders spread their webs, and the community had no voice and no re- 
dress, any more .than if they had been so many blue-bottles." 

I quote these words as the expression of my own 
opinion in reference to the remedy for the terrible 
evil of drunkenness. I shall first propound my views 
on total abstinence as a certain, effectual cure. It 
never fails ; it cannot fail. It stops the supplies, and 
the evil must cease; it dries up the spring, and there 
can be no stream. 

Prevention is better than cure. It is worth a life- 
effort to save a drunkard, to lift a man from degrada- 
tion. It is worth some self-sacrifice to free a man 
from moral slavery and debasement; but to prevent 
his fall is far better. "We may reform a man from 
drunkenness, but I believe no man can ever fully 
recover from the effects of years of dissipation and 
intemperance. You put your hand in that of a giant, 

* This refers to the Sunday-closing Act of Scotland. 

28 



452 :n:evee use it, never want" it. 

and he crushes it. You shriek in your agony, and 
after long struggUng, with a desperate effort you 
extricate your hand from that fearful grip; it is torn, 
crushed, mangled, and bleeding. That hand may at 
last be healed; but it will be mutilated as long as you 
live. It may become a useful hand, but its beauty 
and symmetry is gone forever. So a man may be 
cured of drunkenness ; but the marks are on him, and 
will be to the day of his death. You cannot take the 
stain from snow, nor restore the bloom when once 
rubbed from the fruit ; no- more can you remove from 
the man the marks and stains produced by long- 
continued habits of self-indulgence and intemperance ; 
but we can save the children. 

No child was ever born with a natural appetite for 
intoxicating drink, any more than with an appetite 
for tobacco ; except, perhaps, in those cases where the 
sins of the fathers are visited on the children, and 
the child or grandchild of the drunkard seems to 
possess a natural appetite for drink. I shall allude to 
this more fully on a future page. If he ever wants 
it, it is because he has used it. The use of it pro- 
duces the desire for it. We have hundreds of life- 
time abstainers who have never tasted it, and they 
have never wanted it. 

I believe that no reputable physician of common 
sense will admit that alcoholic stimulants are neces- 
sary in health, but, on the contrary, will declare 
them to be positively injurious. Dr. Richardson, Sir 
Henry Thompson, Sir Wm. Gull, Dr. Edmunds, Dr. 
ISTorman Ker, and scores of the best physicians in 
Great Britain, and many in our own country, have 
publicly testified by their words and their writings 
that alcoholic drinks are never necessary in health; 



I 



A YERY SAD CASE. 453 

SO that total abstinence is the safe, sure, and absohite 
preventive for every child who adopts it. So my 
theory is, '-'Prevention is better than cure.^^ This act 
of abstinence is perfectly easy for the child who has 
never tasted, comparatively easy for the moderate 
drinker, and positively hard for the excessive drinker. 
There are many men who cannot drink intoxicating 
liquor in moderation; if they drink at all, they be- 
come crazed by the first glass, and rush into excess. 
I give one case. The facts as to the killing of his 
brother-in-law by the Hon. E. C. Hannegan were 
widely known at the time, many years since. Mr. 
Hannegan had been a member of the legislature, 
both houses of Congress, ambassador to Prussia. 
John "Wentworth, of Chicago, who served with him 
in Congress, thus commented on his case in the 
" Chicago Democrat " : 

*' Eveiy man who has seen Mr. Hannegan when under the influence 
of liquor, as we have, can believe the above (viz., the statement of the 
homicide) ; and every one who has seen him and lived at the same house 
with him and his family, as we have, when he was a total-abstinence 
man for months together, will indeed pity him. 

"When sober, he is as pure, as upright, as kind, and as generous a 
man as there is in this country. With him there can be no middle state. 
He is a brute when drunk; when sober, he will compare in all the 
elements of goodness with any man living. But he cannot drink without 
getting drunk. Mr. Hannegan entered the Lower House of Congress 
many years ago, a perfect!}'- temperate man, and in point of talents, 
integrity, and popularity, his prospects were as flattering as those of any 
young man in the United States ; but Washington habits and fashions 
were too much for him. 

" Dissipation drove him to private life. He reformed, became a tem- 
perance lecturer and an exemplary member of the church. His exhorta- 
tions in times of great revivals are said to have equalled those of the 
most eloquent divines living. At length his old habits were forgotten, 
and he was sent to the Senate. He took his seat an exemplary ' Son of 
Temperance ' and a Christian ; but again the temptations were too great 
for him. His struggles with himself were gigantic, and the assistance 
of one of Nature's noblest of women, his wife, secm'ed for him the sym- 



454: AJS" AWPUL COMMENT. 

pathy of everybody. But he would have his sprees, and he lost his 
reelection. Like most politicians, he left office miserably poor. At the 
close of his term and of Mr. Polk's administration, to keep so popular 
and so good a man from despair and ruin, the senators unanimously — ' 
Whigs and Democrats — signed a call for Mr. Polk to send him to 
Prussia, and he was appointed to that mission. His unfortunate career 
there is well known. Since his return we have heard nothing of him 
until this melancholy affair. 

" We have seen many a young man enter Congress perfectly tem- 
perate, and leave it totally ruined ; but we never knew one who had so 
many efforts to save him, so ineffectually, as Mr. Hannegan. We now 
have in our mind three, in our own term, who killed themselves. Mr. 
Hannegan has tried to do so several times ; but he lived to kill his wife's 
brother, the best friend, save his wife, he had in the world. That he 
wishes he was in poor Duncan's place, we have no doubt. What an 
awful comment, this, upon the evils of intemperance ! It was the first 
drop that ruined Hannegan. He is now about the middle age of man, 
and may yet live to be a very useful man ; but there is greater proba- 
bility that he will commit suicide." 



CHAPTEE XXXn. 

TEMPEEANCE AWD "THE GRACE OE GOD." — MY OWN 
EXPERIENCE AND THAT OF OTHERS. 



Is Reform possible without Religion? — Grounds of Appeal — Total 
Abstinence does not renew Nature — My First Pledge without "the 
Help of God" — The Memory of the Garret Bedroom — My Second 
Pledge under the Grace of God — Does the Grace of God take away 
the Appetite? — Poison kills the Christian and the Hottentot — The 
Grace of God includes Voluntary Total Abstinence — Is the Drunk- 
ard's Appetite left? — My Disgust at the Drink no Proof that Appe- 
tite is gone — Communion Wine ; its Effect — Wines in Cooking — 
Religion removes the Desire, but not the AppQtite — Self-Deception 
on this Point- — Thrilling Letter of a Clergyman — The Converted 
Rum-Seller's Experience — The Fallen Minister — The only Safety is 
in Total Abstinence — ** The Pledge and the Cross." 



AN a man, who is a drunkard, abstain 
without the special grace of God, or, 
in other words, without being a Chris- 
tian? Can he break his chains, when he 
has been fettered for years, by the power 
f^ of his own will? In answer to this, I 
will say, that I would never admit to a 
man that he could not stop drinking unless 
he became a Christian; that is, as we under- 
stand it, received the new birth — became converted, 
according to the scriptural interpretation of that 
term. 

He may be a skeptic, an unbeliever, a man who 

455 




456 ABSTINENCE EEASONABLE. 

rejects the gospel, who has no faith in prayer. Can I 
tell him that he must continue a drunkard unless he 
becomes a believer? Love of the drink may be, as it 
often is, the hindrance to his belief. If my appeal 
to him to give up the drink on the ground of its 
being a sin against God, produces no effect, may I 
not urge the personal advantage in the restoration to 
society ? May I not plead with him to give it up for 
his own prosperity, comfort, and respectability, and 
tell him he can abstain if he will? Suppose he will 
give up no other sin, — that he will profane the Sab- 
bath, take the name of God in vain, just as he is 
doing now, — is it not right and expedient for him to 
give up that one sin, even if he purposes to give up 
no other? While I believe that drunkenness hinders 
more men from coming to Christ, from hearing and 
accepting the gospel, than any other agency, am I 
not doing a good work as far as it goes? 

Total abstinence from drink, or abstinence from 
theft, or lying, or profane swearing, will not open for 
him the kingdom of heaven; nothing but the power 
of the grace of God can renew him in his nature. 

"When I signed the pledge, I was an unbeliever. 
The appeal to me was on the ground of personal ad- 
vantage: "How should you like to be respectable, 
esteemed," &c. The nearest approach to anything of 
a religious nature in the appeal was in the question, 
" How should you like to be well dressed, and go to 
church ? " In the speech I made, on affixing my 
name to the pledge, I said, " I am resolved to free 
myself from the tyrant Rum." There was not a 
thought of God ; my motive in that act and declara- 
tion was a mere selfish one. In all my struggle I 
never uttered a prayer. I had not prayed for years. 



POWER OF MY WILL. 459 

I said during the struggle, "Oh, my God! I shall 
die ; " and after Jesse Goodrich had encouraged me, 
I said, " By God's help, I will keep up a brave heart.'' 
Yet I had no thought of asking God's help. I heed- 
lessly used a term. 

I fought that battle alone for six days, and though 
nearly thirty-eight years have passed away, that garret 
bedroom, my bed, my broken trunk, the window in 
the roof, the little strip of carpet, the water-jug, my 
shabby clothing as it lay on the one chair in the room, 
— are so vividly present before me, that, were I an 
artist, I could reproduce the scene in all its detail on 
the canvas. "When I had obtained the victory, there 
was no thought of thankfulness to God; it was a sen- 
sation of pride in the consciousness of the power of 
my will; and I often boasted that no human being 
helped or encouraged me in that struggle, with the 
sole exception of Jesse Goodrich. ^ Do I undervalue 
the grace of God in all this? ^N'o; I simply wish to 
state that a man may abstain, if he will. 

To return to my own case. I continued for five 
months an abstainer from drink. I entered the field 
as a lecturer, self-reliant and boastful. Then I fell, 
covered Avith shame and mortification. After a week's 
absence, I returned from Boston to Worcester, where 
I was living, and re-signed the pledge, giving up all 
expectation of any more public advocacy. I have re- 
lated all this at length in my Autobiography. 

It was after that lapse that I cried out, " Oh, my 
Father! may Thy hand support me, and my prayer 
ever be, ' Hold Thou me up, and I shall be safe.' " 
Yes, thus I would tell the drunkard, he can stop drink- 
ing by the power of his will; but every day he abstains 
in his own strength, in the midst of temptation and 



460 "lord, help me!" 



the slumbering appetite, he does it at a risk; but 
when he puts forth all his energies, and then trusts in 
God's mercy and grace, he is safe. 

In my experience, I have found illustrations of this 
fact. One gentleman told me that for years after he 
signed the pledge, he would walk around a square 
rather than pass a certain saloon — he had such a 
horror of going back to his past degraded life. " But," 
said he, " when the grace of God came into my heart, 
I was no longer afraid. I could say, ' Lord, help me ! ' 
and was safe." 

I have been asked, " Do you believe that the grace 
of God can take away the appetite for drink? " 
When a man tells me the appetite is all gone, I think 
he is mistaken; when he tells me the desire to drink 
is gone, I beheve him; but, in my opinion, that is a 
different thing. I may have no desire, — in fact, the 
drink may be hateful to me, the smell of it offensive, 
I may loathe it with an absolute loathing, and yet the 
appetite be then in my system. 

A lady wrote me once : " Will you dare to say that 
the grace of God will not take away the love of sin? " 
I say, if a man has the grace of God in his heart, he 
will hate sin, and that which tends to or produces sin ; 
but the appetite for drink may smoulder in his system. 
That is physical, not moral; something that may be 
removed or relieved by medicine perhaps,^ not by the 
grace of God, except by a miracle. The grace of 
God has certain functions, but the grace of God will 
not prevent drink from affecting the brain and nervous 
system, if a man drinks. You can poison a Christian 
as quickly as you can a Hottentot. If two men — the 
one brimming over with the grace of God, and the 

* I have little faith in quack nostrums. 



ABSUKD REPOETS. 461 

other who does not believe in the grace of God — 
take prussic acid, they will both go down together. 

We are accused of putting total abstinence before 
the gospel in the reformation of the drunkard. I 
reply, the total-abstinence pledge must reform the 
drunkard, whether he be a subject of the grace of 
God or not. Every child knows that if the drunkard 
ceases to drink, he ceases to be a drunkard, and the 
grace of God will not save him unless he abstains. 
It is a physical impossibility for a confirmed drunkard 
to drink intoxicating liquor and continue a sober man, 
except by such a miracle as the world has never seen. 
The appetite for intoxicating liquors, when once fast- 
ened on the system, produces, in frequent cases, a 
certain something — a mystery to us who have no 
knowledge of physiology, and even to those who have 
— that responds to the first touch of alcohol, and the 
man has no power to prevent it. I will speak of what 
I know by my own experience. 

I am sometimes asked, " Have you the appetite 
now? " My reported replies are, some of them, very 
absurd, and positively wrong. A very dear friend 
says that I cannot pass a place where liquor is sold, 
without a return of the old appetite in all its force. 
Another says that I never see it without wanting it. 
Some one writes : " John B. Gough was a hard 
drinker for perhaps fifteen years (this is a mistake; 
only seven years from my first drinking to my pledge 
of abstinence). "We know scores of men who have 
been perfect sots for twice as many years, and to-day 
they are free; they have no more appetite for liquor 
than a babe, and the very sight of it is disgusting. 
Now, why should not Mr. Gough be entitled to all 
that comes with the grace of God as well as they? 



462 THE OLD SENSATIONS. 

Certainly God is not disposed to leave this old war- 
rior, whose locks are whitened with thirty years' cam- 
paign, to fight the enemy in his own bosom still ; and 
yet we believe he confesses that this is true ; " and the 
writer states, in addition: "These men are free, and 
he is in bondage." 

Let me in reply to these statements say, that the 
only effect produced on me by passing a saloon is dis- 
gust; and the appearance of it at the table, in the 
cars, or anywhere, is unpleasant to me. It is not with 
fear I look at it, but with distaste. I may say with 
others, the appetite is all gone, and I have no more 
desire for it than a babe; but if I take a swallow of 
it — what then? will it produce no more effect on me 
than it would on a babe? This is the point to decide. 
Can I, who was once an intemperate drinker, ever be 
a moderate drinker? 

"When I first began a Christian life and united with 
the church, in 1845, 1 partook of the communion when 
intoxicating wine was used. I have reason to suppose 
it was the wine of commerce. I once told the minis- 
ter that the church smelt like a grog-shop after the 
ordinance, and that the odor of alcohol was on every 
communicant's breath. I partook of that wine. Did 
it stir up in me a raging appetite for stimulants? Not 
at all ; but soon after, I gave up the use of intoxicating 
wine at the communion, and have passed the cup 
whenever I had the slightest idea that alcoholic wine 
was used. Was I afraid of it? I can hardly say 
that. What was its effect on me? The small draught 
of that wine warmed my stomach. It brought back 
to me vividly the old sensations, though it did not 
mount to my head and affect my brain ; yet it was a 
reminder of the old bad times, and called up the asso- 



WHAT IS THE " APPETITE " ? 463 

ciations connected with the use of this very article in 
another way than as a rehgious ordinance. I must 
acknowledge that the glow and warmth was to me a 
gratification; and I was startled at the pleasant sen- 
sations produced by the alcohol, even in so small a 
quantity, in my system. I could not help that if I 
took it, and I determined to use it no more. 

So with the use of it in cooking — in jellies, cus- 
tards, and so on. The effect on me was not at once 
to rouse the appetite, but to produce a sensation of 
pleasure in a slight degree, and with that sensation an 
inclination to try it again. Thus I gave up its use in 
cooking, and in every way, shape, and manner. 'Not 
that I felt I must become a drunkard, but the sensa- 
tions, while in one sense disagreeable, were associated 
in my mind with exhilaration, and the delicious thrill 
of the nervous system, that to me was once so fasci- 
nating — which a man of different tetnperament knows 
no more of than a deaf man knows of music. 

This is what I call the appetite; and if I, or any 
other person with a similar experience, should reason 
that the appetite was gone, and the grace of God 
would keep us from falling into sin, — that we might 
use this article so many good Christians were using 
with no detriment, only using it in moderation, — I 
firmly believe it would be a physical impossibility, and 
that I or any other person would drift again into 
drunkenness. So, instead of boasting that the grace 
of God has taken away the appetite, I say the grace 
of God enables me to abstain from drinking, and I 
thank Him that out of His abounding mercy the desire 
for it is taken away ; and at the risk of coming under 
the condemnation of a Boston D.D., who says that 
"a man who cannot jDartake of alcoholic wine at 



464 NO ErroRT of his own". 

communion without arousing his appetite, is neither 
fit for the communion nor benefited by it," I shall, as 
long as I live, refuse positively to partake of the wine 
of commerce, or alcoholic wine, when ofiered at the 
ordinance of the Lord's Supper. 

I honestly believe that if I wilfully used it iti cooked 
food, or even at the communion-table, knowing what 
I do, I should commit sin. I often pleasantly and 
profitably partake of the Lord's Supper in churches 
where unintoxicating wine is used, and I hope to see 
the day when alcoholic wine will be banished from the 
table of the Lord, and the pure juice of the grape 
will be substituted. 

The idea that I cannot pass a grog-shop without a 
desire to partake of liquor, or that I take with me a 
travelling companion as a precaution, is simply ab- 
surd.. I saw, the other day, in the " Congregation- 
alist," a report of two cases in which the appetite had 
been entirely taken away: one where the person had 
been for years a confirmed drunkard, and the appetite 
was taken away entirely, with no effort of Ms own, 
Now I do not deny that, but simply say, if such is 
the pure fact, it was a miracle; it was contrary to 
physical law. Do you believe that the inflamed state 
of the stomach as shown to us in Sewall's plates, — 
the congestion, the thickening of the coats, the com- 
plete disorder of the whole nervous system, — and all 
the irritation that causes the desire, can be removed 
with no inconvenience and no effort, and that the 
whole system shall become as free from all appetite 
as when the first glass was taken? I do not believe 
it, except by a miracle; and I say to those who assert 
that such a miracle has been performed : " You of all 
others should be thankful to God, every hour of your 



PEAY ON, FIGHT ON, 465 

remaining life, that with no effort you have been 
spared the struggle and the fight that so many of 
your less-privileged brothers have endured. If such 
an assumed entire removal of the appetite be true, 
and you ever fall, with no remains of the appetite in 
your system, redeemed from all necessity of a battle 
that often leaves your less-favored brother weak for 
days, — I say, if you ever drink again, you deserve 
no sympathy from men or forgiveness from God." 
To-day I thank God for the experience of the few 
days, yes, the few months, after I signed the pledge; 
for perhaps, had I not gone through that awful fight, 
I might have looked with contempt at the conflict of 
others, and despised them that they did not reach the 
heights of perfect freedom with no effort on then* 
part. 

These cases are very frequently recorded. I would 
say to my struggling brother: " Do^ not be dismayed; 
pray on, fight on. Kemember when Paul prayed that 
the thorn in the flesh might be removed, the answer 
was, ' My grace is sufficient for thee,' while even the 
thorn was not removed; and remember also that He 
will not permit any who trust in Him to be con- 
founded or put to shame." Often have I been com- 
pelled to reply to some poor struggling souls who 
are discouraged because the appetite is not gone, 
who listen to the story of those who are rejoicing in 
perfect freedom with no effort of their own, and are 
doubting whether they are outcasts from God's mercy 
or not. I would hardly refer to this, were it not for 
the sake of such, and with my whole heart I sympa- 
thize with arid pray for them. 

When a man says, as one did in a public meeting, 
" Gough has been thirty years a teetotaler, and he 



466 INTIEEITED APPETITE. 

has the appetite yet; I was in jail a year ago, and 
now I am free, for the appetite has been taken away," 
I can only reply to such a statement in the words of 
the king of Israel to Benhadad's messenger: "Let 
not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself as 
he that taketh it off." 

" This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fast- 
ing," said one of these privileged ones to me. " I 
prayed and fasted, and the appetite was taken from 
me in a moment." 

Read portions of a letter I received from a sincere 
Christian man in the ministry: 

"My grandfather died of delirium tremens. My mother was a 
drinker all her life. I have a natural appetite for drink. When a boy 
of ten, I determined never to drink. I went through college ; studied 
for the ministry. When ordained, I sought the hardest work I could 
find, and engaged as a home missionary on the Western frontier. I am 
very much worn with hard work, and this cruel desire for drink is my 
torment. Whenever I see it, I want it ; if I think of it, I want it. I 
have covered my whole life with prayer as a garment. I have fasted ; I 
have abstained from animal food for two years. I have spent hundreds 
of dollars out of my meagre income at water-cure establishments ; and, 
for all this, I tremble every day on the awful verge of the precipice of 
indulgence." 

That man is a hero whom I honor; and it seems to 
me that the angels look with interest on such a 
struggle. Shall I discourage him by intimating that 
he has none of the real, genuine grace of God in his 
heart? No! a thousand times no! I will tell him, 
as I did in a letter I wrote him, not to be dismayed, 
but to " fight the good fight," " looking unto Jesus." 

Dr. Henry A. Reynolds said at the International 
Conference in Philadelphia, in 1876: 

"I am one of those unfortunate men who have an inherited appetite 
for strong drink. I love liquor to-night as well as an infant loves 
milk." 



"god help me, I LIKE IT." 467 

Who will say that Dr. Reynolds has not the grace 
of God m his heart? But he says: 

" The love for intoxicants is as much a part of my make-up as my 
hand." 

But he also says : 

" I stand here to-night believing myself to be a monument of God's 
grace." 

I conversed, not a month since, with a converted 
drunkard and liquor-seller who has an inherited appe- 
tite. With tears in his eyes, he told me how he strug- 
gled; how the smell of it affected him; how, when 
despondent and weary, his thoughts would turn to 
the drink. But he said: 

"I believe God will keep me; for though He does not take the appe- 
tite away in answer to my prayers, He has given me grace to resist the 
temptation for years, and I believe He will to the end." 

Another said to me: 

*' I have fought the appetite for sixteen years. I dreamed the other 
night that I drank a glass of liquor, and, God help me ! I liked it ; and I 
like it ^ow, waking or sleeping, — at times I long for it." 

These men are all men of prayer, and perhaps pray 
more earnestly than you or I ever did; but they are 
left to fight, and, thanks to the Great Captain of our 
salvation, they will fight to the victory. 

I have a letter before me from a minister of the 
gospel, who lost his church by his intemperance. A 
few of his members clung to him, and choosing him 
for their minister, started a new enterprise in a hall. 
Many put confidence in his repentance and reform. 
The new church was prosperous. The pastor was 
earnest and sincere. The Sunday-school was flourish- 
ing. The prospects were bright. Gradually he was 
gaining the confidence of the people of the town, as 



468 "i AM heaiit-beoke:n'." 

the increasing congregation declared. This went on 
for a year or more. The minister was appointed on 
a committee for procuring a Sabbath-school library, 
and was deputed to go to the city to select said 
library, the other gentlemen of the committee having 
perfect confidence in his judgment. I now quote from 
his letter: 

*' I had no desire for drink ; the appetite was all gone. I was perfectly 

free. I went to , and called on an old classmate for information 

as to the best method of procuring the books I needed, as I was to pay 
cash for them to the amount of a hundred and fifty dollars, which I had 
with me. My friend invited me to dinner. He was a wine-drinker — 
strictly moderate. He asked me to take a glass of wine. I had no desire 
for it ; and, thinking I might take one glass, and feeling perhaps a little 
sensitive at the thought that my classmate might suppose I could not 
take one glass with him, I did take that glass, then another. How I got 
out of the house I cannot tell ; but I woke from a drunken sleep four days 
after, ragged, penniless : the money held in trust for the books all gone ; 

and now I am ruined. I dare not go back to . What shall I do? 

Where' shall I go? I am heartbroken." 

Speaking from a deep experience and wide obser- 
vation, I would say to you, my reformed friend, " Let 
him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." 
All the powers of earth and hell, combined, could not 
have wrecked this man, had he not drank. All the 
rest was the consequence of that act, and the grace 
of God did not prevent it. He said he had no desire 
for it, and thought he could take one glass with im- 
punity. There is the mistake, — the desire for it was 
gonej hut the appetite remained^ — just as the crouch- 
ing pet tiger licked playfully the man's hand till the 
blood was tasted; and then hold him who can? The 
only safety for the reformed drunkard is total absti- 
nence, let others say what they will. Pray God to 
keep you from drinking, then the drink has no power 
over you. But if you drink, the grace of God can- 



PLEDGE AND THE CROSS. 469 

not save you, unless by a miracle. The clays of strug- 
gling will soon be over, and we shall say, " Thanks 
be to God who giveth us the victory through our 
Lord Jesus Christ." 

Since writing the above, I have seen extracts from 
a work written by Mrs. S. M. J. Henry, one of the 
most devoted and active of the noble army of Chris- 
tian women now engaged in the cause. I commend 
most heartily the book published by the JSTational 
Temperance Society, 58 Reade Street, jSTew York, 
entitled "The Pledge and the Cross." The author 
presents the case fairly and most lucidly. I give but 
one sentence. Speaking of a man who had fallen 
after his conversion, Mrs. Henry says : 

"Now, what was the trouble? The failure was not in God's grace, 
nor in the sincerity of the man, but in an unsound doctrine — a simple 
human claim for God's grace which He has nowhere seconded : in claim- 
ing that it will do a work which is just as much out of its province as to 
straighten a crooked bone, or eye ; or to hew stone, and draw lumber to 
supply the needy with a home. The bone or eye may be straightened, 
the stone hewn, the house builded, if the right means are employed ; so 
the man may be carried over the crisis of his reformation, if God's good 
and abundant grace can find a channel ; if His spirit can find a medium 
in some loving, patient Christian heart and hand that will furnish the 
practical heljD just at the time it is needed — in the mpn's hour of ex- 
tremity." 

29 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

MODERATE DRTNKESTa AJN^D TOTAL ABSTIKEKCE. 

The Moderate Drinker — The Moderate Drinker of Stockholm — Gough 
and his Moderate-drinking Friend — Dr. B. W. Richardson on Mod- 
erate Drinking — Alcoliol not inckided in the Scheme of Life — The 
Most Helpless Period passed without it — The Four Stages of Life — 
Voice of Science — Stimulation Harmful to Health — Foods and Alco- 
hol — "The Alcoholic Stages" — "The Devil and the Peacock"—- 
Wine and Civilization — Wine-drinking Nations — Wine only Dirty- 
Water — Total Abstinence for the Sake of Others — Abusing the 
" Moderate Drinker " — A Dinner without Wine — The Right, the 
Wrong, the Doubtful — A Touching Story — The Idolized Son — Wine 
at New Year's Calls — Misnamed Friends. 




PROPOSE giving several reasons why 
I commend total abstinence to the moder- 
ate drinker. A moderate drinker is a per- 
son who can drink without intoxication. 
A gentleman once said to me. '^ Six 
glasses of whiskey toddy in a day is not 
excess, if I can stand it." There is no 
virtue in moderation, if this is the crite- 
rion by which we judge. Where can you 
draw the line between moderation and excess? I have 
spoken of this on another page, and will only state a 
few facts illustrating the various opinions or judg- 
ments of moderation. 

Dr. Most, a German physician, in the ^'JEncyh, Med, 
and Cliir,^^ gives the case of a man in his seventieth 

470 



A MODERATE DRIKKER. 471 

year, who for twenty years had drank, daily, upwards 
of a quart of rum, or nearly forty hogsheads in all. 

Professer Huss thus describes the ordinary life of a 
moderate drinker among the laboring classes of Stock- 
holm: 

" Rising at five or six in the morning, according to the season, he 
takes a cup of coffee mixed with a glass of brandy, containing from two 
to three ounces of the spirit, Avhich is there usually prepared from pota- 
toes. He then attends to his occupations till eight o'clock, when he takes 
breakfast and a second glass of brandy. At his dinner, at noon, he has 
another gla^s, or more — usually a glass and a half. At five or six he 
again has a glass; and, lastly, with his supper, at eight or nine, still 
another. He thus consumes from five to five and a half glasses regularly 
every day, enjoying all the time a character among his comrades as a 
person of great moderation, wdio scarcely takes what is requisite for an 
individual in his station. Even if he becomes intoxicated on two days 
of every week, the Saturdays and Sundays, he does not acquire the 
reputation of a drunkard." 

Men have been known to swallow from sixteen to 
twenty glasses daily, without showing signs of intoxi- 
cation. I have known men who could and did con- 
sume a quantity of liquor every day, one-half of which 
would make me drunk and incapable, while they were 
perfectly sober, apparently; at any rate they were 
moderate drinkers, and it would have been termed a 
libel to call them drunkards. I once met a man in 
the streets of Boston, who hailed me with — 

"Well, Gough, how are ye?" 

"Quite well; how are you?" 

" Oh, I'm going on in the same old jog." 

" Are you drinking yet? " 

" Yes, just about the same as I did in the old times. 
You see, Gough, I had a mind of my own. I could 
always drink you down, and I do not think I was ever 
drunk in my life." 

He was one of my old drinking companions, and 



472 FOUR STAGES OF LIFE. 

could always consume double, yes, treble the quantity 
I could. I became a wreck in trying to do as he did; 
and he, at the time I saw him, fifteen years after I had 
signed the pledge, was a reputable moderate drinker; 
drinking in all those j^ears, day after day, what would 
have destroyed another, body and soul. 

On moderation, I cannot speak to you in the lan- 
guage of science, but I rejoice there are so many who 
can and will. Among the foremost is Dr. B. W. 
Eichardson. To him and his admirable work, " Mod- 
erate Drinking, For and Against, from Scientific 
Points of View,'' I refer you, I can commend total 
abstinence for the moderate drinker on the ground 
that every drunkard began by moderation, and became 
what he is by attempting to be a moderate drinker 
and failing. On the ground of its being utterly use- 
less for a healthy system, I refer you to the scientist, 
and quote a few extracts from Dr. Richardson's 
work : 

" Science declares that alcohol is not included in the scheme of life. 
Try a man by himself. Every child of woman born, if it be not per- 
verted, lives v^ithont alcohol, grows up without it; spends — and this is 
a vital point — spends the very happiest part of its life without it ; gains 
its growing strength and vitality without it; feels no want for it. The 
course of its life is, at the most, on an average of the best lives — sixty 
years ; of which the first fifteen, in other words the first fourth, are the 
most dangerous ; yet it goes through that fourth without the use of this 
agent. But if in the four stages of life it can go through the first and 
the most critical stage without alcohol, why cannot it traverse the re- 
maining three? Is Nature so unwise in her doings, so capricious, so 
uncertain, that she withholds a giver of life from the helpless, and sup- 
plies it only to the helpful? Impossible! She provides for the helpless 
at once a food and a drink — their mother's milk. 

"Further, there have been many men and women, millions and mill- 
ions of them, who have gone on through the four stages of life, from the 
first to the last, without resort to this agent for the support of life. Some 
men, forming whole nations, have never heard of it; some have heard 
of it, and have abjured its use. In England and America at this time 
there are probably nearly upon six millions of persons who have abjured 



DECLARATION OF SCIENCE. 473 

this agent. Do they fall or fail in value of life from the abjuration? The 
evidence, as we shall distinctly see by and by, is all the other way. There 
are, lastly, some who are forced to live without the use of this agent. 
Do they fall or die in consequence? There is not a single instance in 
illustration. 

" On all these points, science, when she is questioned earnestly and 
interpreted justly, is decisive and firm ; and if you question her in yet 
another direction, she is not less certain. You ask her for a comparison 
of alcohol and of man, in respect to the structure of both, and her evi- 
dence is as the sun at noon in its clearness. She has taken the body of 
man to pieces ; she has learned the composition of its structure — skin, 
muscle, bone, viscera, brain, nervous cord, organs of sense. She knows 
of what these parts are formed, and she knows from whence the compo- 
nents came. She finds in the muscles fibnne ; it came from the fibrine 
of flesh, or from the gluten or albumen of the plants on which the man 
has fed. She finds tendon and cartilage and earthy matter of the skele- 
ton; they were from the vegetable kingdom. She finds water in the 
body in such abundance that it makes up seven parts out of eight of the 
whole ; and that she knows the source of readily enough. She finds iron; 
that she traces from the earth. She finds fat ; and that she traces to 
sugar and starch. In short, she discovers, in whatever structure she 
searches, the origin of the structure. But, as a natural presence, she 
finds no ardent spirit there in any part or fluid. , Nothing made from 
spirit. Did she find either, she would say the body is diseased, and, it 
may be, was killed by that which is found. 

" Sometimes in the bodies of men she discovers the evidences of some 
conditions that are not natural. She compares these bodies with the 
bodies of other men, or with the bodies of inferior animals, as sheep and 
oxen, and finds that the unnatural appearances are peculiar to persons 
who have taken alcohol, and are indications of new structural changes 
which are not proper, and which she calls disease. Thus, by two tests, 
science tries the comparison between alcohol and man. She finds in the 
body no structure made from alcohol ; she finds in the healthy body no 
alcohol ; she finds in those who have taken alcohol changes of the struct- 
ure, and those are changes of disease. By all these proofs she declares 
alcohol to be entirely alien to the structure of man. It does not build wp 
the body ; it undermines and destroys the building. 

" One step more. If you question science on the comparison which 
exists between foods and alcohol, she gives you facts on every hand. She 
shows you a natural and all-sufl&cient and standard food. She calls it 
milk. She takes it to pieces ; she says it is made up of caseine, for the 
construction of muscular and other active tissues ; of sugar and fat, for 
sux^plying fuel to the body for the animal warmth ; of salts for the earthy, 
and of water for the liquid parts. This is a perfect standard. Holds it 
any comparison with alcohol? Not a jot. The comparison is the same 
with all other natural foods. 



4:74: AN ARAB LEGEI!?!). 

" Man, going forth to find food for his wants, discovers it in various 
substances, but only naturally, in precisely such substances, and in the 
same proportions of such substances, as exist in the standard food on 
which he first fed. Alcohol alien to the body of man, is alike alien to 
the natural food of man." 

On the " Alcoholic Stages/' Dr. Bichardson says : 

"A man or woman sitting down, or standing up, if you like, to drink 
wine or other stimulant, always starts on the way that leads through four 
stages toward an easily realizable destination. Stage one is that gentle 
stimulation called moderate excitement, or support. Stage two is eleva- 
tion — whatever that may mean. It is not elevation of character ; of 
that I am satisfied. Stage tliree is confusion of mind, action, and deed, 
with sad want of elevation. Stage four is complete concatenation of cir- 
cumstances, — all the stages perfectly matured, the journey completed, 
with the traveller lying down, absolutely prostrated in mind and in body. 
The destination is reached, and found to be a human being dead drunk 
and incapable." 

Some years ago I received a letter from a friend 
that seems so apposite to this as to be quoted for an 

illustration. It is as follows : 

" Quebec. 
"Dear Sir: There are persons whom it is diflScnlt to persuade that 
the Jii^st glass drank by an individual who will be drunk by taking cnuj 
larger quantity affects such individuals so as to produce any degree of 
drunkenness. I differ with such people, and think the following, from a 
small work on the natural history of birds, in possession of one of my 
little girls, an apt illustration, of which you are at liberty to make such 
use as you please. I am, &c., . 

"THE DEVIL AND THE PEACOCK. 

" The Arabs, says Bochart, denominate the peacock as a bird of ill- 
omen, for the following reasons : it was the cause of the first entrance of 
the Devil into Paradise, and the expulsion of Adam and Eve. They 
also relate that the Devil watered the vine with the blood of four ani- 
mals : first, with that of a peacock ; and when the vine began to put 
forth leaves, with the blood of an ape ; when the grapes began to appear, 
with that of a lion ; and lastly, when they were quite ripe, with that of a 
hog ; which is the reason, say they, that the wine-bibber at first struts 
about like a peacock, then begins to dance, play, and make gi'imaces 
like an ape, then rages like a lion, and, lastly, lies down in a ditch 
like a hog;." 



DETERIORATION^ OF :n-atio:n^s. 475 

In reply to the statement that wine has been the 
promoter of civihzation, and the source of msph'ation 
to poet and artist, Dr. Richardson says : 

" It is said that the use of wine and its allies has been the source of 
the power of the most powerful nations. It is said that the wine-cup has 
been the fountain of that wit and poetiy and artistic wisdom, if I may 
use the term, which has made the illustrious men of the world so illus- 
trious and so generally useful as they have been to the world. Take 
away the wine-cup, it is argued, and the whole intellectual life must 
needs become ' flat, stale, and unprofitable.' It were indeed a pity if this 
were the lookout of total abstinence, a second deluge of water, with 
not so much as a graceful dove and an olive-branch to cheer the track- 
less waste. It were indeed a pity of pities if this were the final lookout 
of total abstinence in the intellectual sphere. Can it be that all intel- 
lectual energy and hilarity must die out with the abolition of the wine- 
cup? 



"Science, ever fair, says that some nations and wonderful peoples 
that have lived have been wine-drinkers at certain periods of their his- 
tory. But she draws also this most important historical lesson, that the 
great nations were, as a rule, water-drinkers purely, until they became 
great; then they took to wine and other luxuries, and soon became 
little. Up to the time of Cyrus, the Persians were water-drinkers ; they 
became all-powerful, and then also became such confirmed wine-drinkers 
that, if they had some great duty to perform, they discussed the details 
of it when inflamed with wine, and rejected the judgment or revised it 
when they had become sober, and vice versa. Surely this was the acme 
of perfection as a test of wine. Curiously, it didn't answer. With its 
luxury Persia succumbed, fell into hands of less luxurious conquerors, 
and, like a modern rake, found its progress anything but promising in 
the end. 

" The Greeks in their first and simple days were clothed in victory 
over men and over nature. They grew powerful ; they sang and danced, 
and all but worshipped wine ; but it did not sustain them in their gran- 
deur, as it ought to have done if the theory of such sustainment be 
correct. The Roman rule became overwhelming out of the simplicity 
of its first life. It rose into luxury, and made wine almost a god. But 
Rome fell. Wine did not sustain it. It is all through history the same. 
There is not an instance, when we come to the analysis of fact and cir- 
cumstance, in which wine has not been to nations, as to man individu- 
ally, a mocker. It has been the death of nations. It has swept down 
nations, as it sweeps down men, in the prime of their life, and in the 
midst of their glory." 



476 THE POETIC DEEAM. 

And thus Dr. Richardson destroys the poetic dream 
of sparkling, ruby wine: 

" Science tells us that where one or two disguises are removed, even 
blood is water ; as to wine, that is mere dirty water, — sixteen bottles, 
or cups, or any other equal measures of water, pure and simple, from the 
clouds and earth, to one poor bottle or cup of a burning, fiery liquid 
which has been called ardent spirit, or spirit of wIdc, or alcohol, with 
some little coloring matter, in certain cases a little acid, in other cases a 
little sugar, and in still other cases a little cinder stuff. 

" It is a pitiful fall, but it is such, and science not only declares it, but 
proves it so to be. A pitiful let-down, that men throughout all ages who 
have called themselves wine-drinkers have been water-drinkers after all ; 
that men who have called themselves wine-merchants have been water- 
merchants ; that men who have bought and still buy wines at fabulous 
prices have been buying and still are buying water! A dozen of cham- 
pagne, bought at a cost of five pounds ten shillings, very choice, — I am 
speaking by the book, — consisted, when it was all measured out, of 
three hundred ounces (or fifteen pints) of fluid, of which fluid thirteen 
pints and a half were pure water, the rest ardent spirit, with a little 
carbonic acid, some coloring matter like burnt sugar, a light flavoring 
ether in almost infinitesimal proportion, and a trace of cinder stuff. 
Science, looking on dispassionately, records merely the facts. If she 
thinks that five pounds ten shillings was a heavy sum to pay for thirteen 
pints and a half of water and one pint and a half of spirit, she says 
nothing; she leaves that to the men and women of sentiment and pas- 
sionate feeling, buyers and sellers and drinkers all round." 

I appeal to the moderate drinker on a higher ground 
and a nobler motive than self-preservation. I ask him 
to abstain for the sake of others. As a Christian, 
what is your influence over the young man drifting to 
ruin through the drink? You urge him to abstain. 
If he does as you bid him, he is safe; if he attempts 
to follow you, he is lost. You cannot say, " Come 
with us, and we will do you good." You and he 
must separate here; he cannot and dare not go with 
you if he would be safe. 

We are often accused of abusing the moderate 
drinker; I have no disposition to abuse or condemn; 
but in view of the terrible evil we fight, and the 



"not exactly APOLoaizE." 4:77 

knowledge that all this evil must come to an end 
when the present race of the intemperate shall die 
out, if there are no more made, and that the drunk- 
ards are all drawn from the ranks of moderation, and 
when death makes gaps in their ranks they are filled 
by recruits from the army of moderate drinkers, — we 
must speak out, and implore the moderate drinker to 
give up his gratification for the sake of others. I 
have never accused them of wilfully doing harm. I 
simply ask them to investigate, and to test their 
position. 

I was once entertained by a gentleman as an invited 
guest. It was a large dinner-party, composed of 
several magistrates, a member of parliament, one or 
two ministers of the gospel, and others, — altogether 
a very intelligent and intellectual company. At the 
table I noticed that the host became rather uneasy, 
and looked nervously up and down the board. At 
last he said, hesitatingly: 

" Gentlemen, I know not but I ought to apologize; 
not exactly apologize, but explain the absence of wine. 
It is well known that I present wine, and some of you 
may have expected wine, or toddy, and may be disap- 
pointed when I tell you that I shall provide neither 
wine nor toddy to-day. I ordered the butler to decant 
no wine. I do this in honor of Mr. Gough, whom you 
are invited to meet. We all know his practice, that 
he is a total abstainer; and though we may not agree 
with him in all points, yet, out of compliment to him, 
we will have no wine to-day." 

The countenances of several of the guests fell, and 
a damper seemed to be shut down on the spirits of 
the company at this announcement that there Avould 
be no artificial stimulants to keep up their spirits. I 



478 SETTLE THE DOUBT. 

was wofully embarrassed, and felt compelled to say 
something. 

I did not wish to sit there as a block to their enjoy- 
ment, or a wet blanket on the sociability of the com- 
pany, so I said: 

" Sir, I regret that you should have made any 
change in the customary entertainment of your 
guests, solely out of compliment to me, or deference 
to my opinions. I will change no customary ar- 
rangement at my own table to suit any man's whims, 
prejudices, or vagaries. If it is right to place wine 
and toddy on the table, place it there ! I would, if I 
knew it was right to do it. I know it is right to pro- 
vide water for my guests, and I do it. So, sir, if you 
know it is right, place the wine before your guests. 
If it is wrong^ never place it there under any consid- 
eration, even at the demand or request of your guests. 
If you have the slightest doubt as to the right or 
wrong of the act of presenting wine or toddy at your 
table, or to your friends, abstain from presenting it 
till you have settled the doubt." 

This is what I ask every moderate drinker to do. 
I do not abuse, nor do I think any moderate drinker 
intends to make mischief or to wrong any human 
being by giving wine; but harm is done. I am no 
judge of my neighbor; God is the Judge. I only 
ask, "Can any good arise from the use of intoxi- 
cating drinks as a beverage, and may there not be 
harm?" 

A lady told me the following touching story in her 
experience. She had a son, her pride, her joy; her 
heart was bound up in her boy — so clean, so sweet 
and lovely, and withal so manly. 

One New Year's morning he came into the break- 



THE NEW- YEAR CALLS. 479 

fast-room, full of life and youthful beauty, and giving 
her the morning kiss, said: 

" A happy ISTew Year to you, mother, darling ! " 
After breakfast, he sprang up, saying: 
" ^ow, mother dear, for the I^ew Year calls ! You 
know I have never before really made any, but I shall 
make a business of it to-day. Good-bye; again a 
happy ]N'ew Year to you! " 

He went out; and said she, "I stood in the bay- 
window, and saw him walking down the street. I 
was proud of him, my son, eighteen years of age; 
tall, shapely, clean, sweet. I watched him, my 
mother's heart yearning to him in tenderest love. 
After he had turned the corner, I still looked at the 
spot where I had last seen him. I returned to my 
household duties, and all day I was thinking of my 
boy. I heard a hurried or unsteady ring at the door 
in the evening, and as the servant opened it, I heard 
some confused noises. I rushed to the hall, and 
found two young gentlemen, evidently flushed with 
wine, bearing between them the helpless form of my 
boy — my boy! I asked them to lift him into the 
drawing-room, and leave me, thanking them as well 
as I was able for their trouble. Then I sat down by 
my boy's side, and lifted his head in my lap; and oh, 
how I did cry! I thought my heart would break. 
His lips, that I had kissed in the morning, so pure, 
so sweet — swollen, dry, and feverish; his hair damp 
and matted. His clear skin actually seemed coarse; 
his eyes half-closed, his breath poisoning the air. 
Oh, so offensive! His clothes disarranged. Yes, 
there he lay, breathing heavily, utterly unconscious — 
Jielplessly druiik. My boy! my beautiful boy! What 
enemy hath done this? Oh, had it been some vile, 



480 FALSE FEIEI^J^DSHIP. 

vindictive enemy who had thus smitten him, had it 
been some cruel foe of mine that had dealt me this 
dreadful blow, it would have been a comfort com- 
pared with the terrible conviction that this was the 
work of his friends ! He had only been with friends. 
Friends had sent him home to his mother. Friends 
had brought him to his mother's door. Oh, if this is 
the work of my boy's friends, how shall I stand be- 
tween him and harm ! That night of agony I shall 
never forget. That was his first intoxication, but 
not his last. His friends laughed at him for being 
overcome, and presented him with drink, — even 
ladies invited him, — and now he is far on the road to 
drunkenness." 

This is the result of friendship, so called. Had I 
a son, I would pray God more earnestly to save him 
from such friendship than to shield him from his well- 
known enemies. For the sake of others, we plead, 
then, with the moderate drinker, and remind them 
that no possible good can result from their presenta- 
tion of wine or strong drink to others ; but there may 
be a possible harm as the consequence. I would 
rather give the poor drunkard his last glass to allay 
the terrible thirst that maddens him, than to give him 
the first glass that lays the foundation of the appetite 
that leads him to destruction. 



CHAPTEK XXXIY. 



TEMPERAN"CE AN^D THE BIBLE. IVIY VIEWS ON THE 

scmPTURE qiiestio:n^. — II^CIDENTS. 



Assistance demanded from all Sides — Charity — The Truth our Weapon 

— Scamp's Tavern — "'The Seven Last Plagues' for Sale here'' — 
Specimen of Liquor-Sellers' Work — The Wine of Scripture and of 
Commerce — Conflicting Authorities — One of the " Doubtful Dispu- 
tations " — Dr. Norman Ker's Statement — The Hieroglyphical Argu- 
ment — Assumed Biblical Commands against Strong Drink — Dr. 
Samuel H. Cox and J. Fenimore Cooper upon Bible Miracles — Absa- 
lom's Hair — What Fish swallowed Jonah — Good Men who endeavor 
to sanction Drinking — How to answer these Men — Advice to the 
Reformed ]\lan — Let Arguments alone — The Outcast's Conversion 

— Man}^ Churches unsafe for the Reformed Drunkard. 



]^ another page I have akeady ex- 
pressed my opmions as to prohibi- 
tion. I believe that a prohibitory 
law, based on the pubhc sentiment 
of antagfonism to the drink, will be 



<i^^i^ successfully enforced; and just in pro 

^•^^U^\ portion as it is upheld by a spasmodic 

^^^ effort, pushed through a legislature 

^^ without sufficient sentiment to back it, it 

will be a failure, and in my opinion worse than 

nothing. 

I rejoice in every effort that prohibits, cripples, or 
lessens in any way the sale of intoxicating liquor. I 
give full sympathy to the work of the Society for 

481 




482 TRUTH WOULD KILL IT. 

the Suppression of Crime, in its efforts to prevent 
the dealers from violating existing laws, I welcome 
every endeavor to break up a single grog-shop, to 
curtail the hours for selling, if it be but one hour in 
the day. I say to such a worker: "If you can go no 
further with us than to reduce the number of licenses 
where they may be granted by the city or town coun- 
cil, do that; every Httle helps." 

I cry out for assistance from every quarter. Small 
help is better than no help; and I will not refuse any 
aid given from any source to pull down the strong- 
hold of intemperance. While I stand unflinchingly 
on the platform of total abstinence and absolute pro- 
hibition, combining their forces for the entire aban- 
donment of the drinking customs, and the annihilation 
of the manufacture and sale of alcoholic beverages, I 
hold out my hand to every worker as far as he can go 
with me, if it is but a step. 

The truth cannot be told without damaging this 
horrible business. Did the whole people accept the 
truth, the traffic would cease; the truth would kill it. 
Even where the truth is accidentally told, it is very 
damaging. I heard in Connecticut, many years ago, 
that a man named Stephen Camp kept a tavern, and 
had procured a new and gaudy sign. There was so 
much ornamentation about it that room only was left 
for the initial of the man's first name, and the painter 
neglected to put the full-stop between the S and the 
C, so that it read " S Camp's Tavern." The people 
read it " Scamp's Tavern," and there was so much 
truth in the statement involuntarily exhibited by the 
tavern-keeper, that he at once inserted the period. 
But still the letters ran so close together that the 



SEVEl^^ LAST PLAGUES. 483 

passers-by would read it " Scamp's Tavern," and he 
was compelled to procure a new sign, large enough 
to permit him to give the full name, Stephen; and 
then he was at peace. 

A medical gentleman wrote me a letter giving the 
original of the story, oft repeated, of the " Seven 
Last Plagues." It has appeared in so many shapes, 
and with so many differing particulars, that I insert 
the letter, which is as follows : 

" Dear Sir; When I heard you last night describing the appropriate 
signs the rumsellers ought to hang out, showing the effect of their opera- 
tions, it occurred to me that I ought to communicate to you a fact which 
is too good to be lost. 

" In Erie there lived, a few years ago, the Rev. Mr. Reed, of the 
Associate Reformed Church. He published a book on the Revelations, 
entitled 'The Seven Last Plagues.' This Mr. Reed preached part of his 
time in Waterford, Avhere one of his elders kept a tavern. So Mr. Reed 
left several copies of his work for sale with this elder, accompanied with 
a handbill which contained the title of the book^ which was stuck up 
on the bar, in large letters : 

'"The Seven Last Plagues" for Sale here.' 

" This conspicuous handbill had the effect of arresting the attention 
of visitors, and you can easily imagine how annoying it soon became to 
the tavern-keeper, when humorous and fun-loving persons would look up 
at the bill and utter some sly remark. This so mortified the landlord 
that he eventually gave up the sale of the poison, and kept a temperance 
house. Having stopped at the house both before and after the trans- 
action here stated, I know the fact to be as stated." 

i 

"Were the liquor-sellers compelled to exhibit speci- 
mens of their work in the saloon-windows, placing 
some poor wreck of a man in a conspicuous place, 
with bloated face, bleared eyes, swollen, cracked, 
white lips, trembling limbs, noisome breath, offensive 
to every sense, in his rags and dirt, and label him 
" Such things as this made out of men here," it would 
do more to break up this vile business than all the 



484 WINES OF SCRIPTURE. 

efforts put forth by the most ardent advocate of the 
temperance reform. 

There has been much discussion, and many volumes 
written, and some strong feehngs expressed, and, I 
think, bitterness engendered, on the wines of Script- 
ure. I pay very Httle attention to this agitation, as 
the subject is of no particular moment to me. I am 
not learned, and know nothing of Hebrew or Greek; 
and if learned men say that the Bible sanctions the 
use of alcoholic wine, that the Saviour made and 
drank intoxicating wine, I can only reply that I do 
riot believe it. But there is no necessity for argu- 
ment with me, as I do not understand the question, and 
it is perfectly immaterial to me what wine the Saviour 
made aild drank, as it is what clothes He wore, or 
what food He ate; for I am no more bound to drink 
what He drank than I am to eat what He ate, or to 
wear the kind of clothing in which He was ap- 
parelled. 

The question of the wines of Scripture, in my 
opinion, has nothing whatever to do with the wines 
of commerce, the ardent spirits, the ale, and other 
intoxicating drinks we are fighting to-day. If I be- 
lieved the Bible condemned total abstinence from 
alcoholic beverages, I would advocate their disuse no 
more. If the Bible commanded me to drink alco- 
holic beverages, I must obey. But I thank God that, 
with the light He has thrown on the page of His 
word, and with my conception of the character and 
mission of Christ on earth, I know, as well as I need 
to know anything, that there is no condemnation of 
total abstinence in the Bible to me, — that it is per- 
mitted, if not commanded; and if you, with your 
Hebrew and Greek, and all your learning, can only 



DEBATABLE GROUND. 485 

come to the conclusion of a minister of the gospel 
who told me that " Christ liked the wine best that 
had the most alcohol in it," then I thank God I am 
not an educated man, and know nothing of Hebrew 
and Greek. 

But this is debatable ground. It is an unprofitable 
discussion; it is one of the " doubtful disputations." 
While one very learned man insists that it was simply 
impossible that the ancients could have preserved 
their grape-juice unfermented, unless they boiled it 
in air-tight flasks, another equally learned declares 
not only that it is possible, but proves it by actual 
experiment. I quote from Dr. Norman Ker: 

" This distinguished divine might as well declare he had demonstrated 
that no man-child had ever been born in England with a nose on his 
face. I know that I was born with a nose, because I could see it and 
feel it ; and I know that wine could be preserved unfermented and unin- 
toxicating, because I had it and drank it," 

Another very learned man tells us that the '' fruit 
of the vine " used by our Lord was intoxicating red 
wine. I hope he does not mean the " wine when it is 
red." Others equally learned deny that. One rabbi 
will tell you, as one told me, " We use no fermented 
wine at our Passover. We boil the raisins, and use 
the liquid juic^." Another rabbi declares that they 
use wine that is fermented; that is, wine that will 
make men drunk; that some cannot take at all without 
danger. 

Some learned people get angry; and because some 
others, equally learned, tell us that the red wine was 
not intoxicating, they declare that such men would 
trample on all that is holy, on Christ himself, to gain 
their point and carry out their theories. Some declare 
that the Bible never commends the use of intoxicating 
30 



486 "we eax and they eak." 

liquors, and some affirm that it countenances and 
commends them. 

The atheist asks, and has asked more than once, 
" Can a book be true, or can its inspirer be infallible, 
when in it liquids which men of science and medical 
practitioners know to be artificial poisons are explic- 
itly commended and unstintingly approved of ? " Let 
Dr. l^orman Ker reply : 

" That believers in the Bible and its author, who 
are acquainted with the fact, a fact beyond dispute, 
that alcohol is a poison, and therefore all alcoholic 
liquors are poisonous, are absolutely certain that the 
inspired volume cannot possibly sanction the use of 
intoxicating beverages." 

Then some learned Christian declares that such a 
defender is as bad as the infidel. And so the discus- 
sion waxes warm, and the disputants are claiming 
each for his own side the victory, reminding you of 
the battle of " Shirra Muir," of which the old song 
says: 

*' There's some say that we wan, 
Some say that they wan; 
Some say that nane wan at a', man. 
But one thing I'm sure, 
That at Shirra Muir, 
A battle there was, which I saw, man. 
And we ran and they ran, and they ran and we ran, 
And we ran and they ran awa', man." 

N'ow, amidst all this learning and science and 
parading of knowledge of the dead languages, where 
are the poor, illiterate people who desire to do right 
to take their position? "We are bewildered, and some- 
times shocked. It is strangely confusing for us, pro- 
fessing no profound learning, to be confronted by so 
much knowledge! I once received a letter, on one 



WE ARE PUZZLED. 487 

side of the sheet were some passages of Scripture, 
and on the other some dots and dashes and half- 
circles, appearing to me as if German text and Old 
English had gone mad together, and were pulling 
each other to pieces and scattering the fragments. 
Then came the question in good sound English, "Are 
you prepared to deny that this is the correct reading 
of the quotations I have made ? " I felt more like 
dropping the paper, and running away, than attempt- 
ing to come to any decision. It was more like an 
incantation; it appeared like something "uncanny," 
as the Scotch say; and to this day I have never been 
able to ascertain from the hieroglyphics what the true 
rendering of the quotations was. 

Now, we who are ignorant must go to the learned 
ta ascertain what is correct, and if they do not agree, 
what shall we do? We are in the position of the 
voter who could not read, asking a politician to read 
the declaration of a certain party. You may be sure 
the politician gave such a version of the document as 
suited his purposes or preferences. So I give up 
altogether any interest in the discussion of the Script- 
ure wine question as being to me unprofitable; and 
amid the smoke and the dust of conflict of opinions, I 
will look beyond and through it all to the hard fact 
that intemperance is the curse of the world; and, 
without judging others for their opinion, will do my 
best to stay this tide of evil, and work with the means 
God has put into my hands to lift up the fallen, and 
build a barrier between the unpolluted lip of the child 
and the agency that promotes and perpetuates the 
evil. 

I have been met with many quotations other than 
Paul's advice to Timothy. Here is one sent me as a 



488 MISQUOTmG SCEIPTURB. 

positive command iii the Bible to drink strong drink. 
Deut. xiv. 26, "Thou shalt bestow that money for 
whatsoever thy soul lusteth after/' for oxen, for sheep, 
or for wine, or for strong drink, &c. ; and Prov. xxxi. 
4, " Give strong drink to him that is ready to perish," 
&c., is often quoted. I was told that a Cameronian 
in Scotland declared he had a command to drink 
spirits, " for are we not told to try the spirits? " And 
so he would try every whiskey-bottle that was pre- 
sented to him, quoting Scripture at the same time. 
There is scarcely any absurdity, or even wrong-doing, 
that some men do not pretend to find a warrant for in 
Scripture. 

I heard a man defend gambling from the passage, 
" The lot is cast into the lap, but the whole dispos- 
ing thereof is of the Lord." It is told of another that 
he refused to believe the Bible, because it was opposed 
to personal cleanliness ; and when asked for evidence, 
quoted the passage, " He that is filthy, let him be 
filthy still." It is quite a common thing to hear men 
of education misquoting Scripture, or repeating some 
sentence as from the Bible which they have fished up 
in their reading, or make statements as from the 
Bible that are not there. 

Many years ago, on one of the Hudson River steam- 
boats. Dr. Sam. H. Cox introduced me to James Feni- 
more Cooper, the very celebrated literary man and 
author. The conversation turned on temperance, then 
on the Slavery question, then on Theology, and at last 
on the Bible and its Divine origin. Doubt was ex- 
pressed as to the miracles recorded, when Dr. Cox 
said, " There were miracles recorded in the Bible, but 
not so many as some people supposed." He said that 



CAUGHT BY HIS HEAD. 489 

men would read so carelessly as to imagine a miracle 
where none was recorded. 

" I^ow," said he, " how did Absalom come by his 
death?" 

The reply was, " He was hung by the hair of his 
head in the tree, and Joab slew him with darts " 

^^ Where do you get that? " 

"In the Bible." 

" But the Bible does not say that he was caught by 
the hair." 

" I beg your pardon, but it does." 

" I beg your pardon, but it does not." 

A waiter was called. 

"Bring us the Bible." 

Dr. Cox, handing it to Mr. Cooper, said, " Find the 
passage." 

The verse containing the incident ,was found to be : 
" And Absalom rode upon a mule, and the mule went 
under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head 
caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up," &c. 
(2 Sam. xviii. 9.) 

"Now," said the Doctor, " there is not one word about 
the hair. To be sure we read in another place that 
he polled his head once a year, because his hair was 
heavy, and from that, men judge that Absalom on the 
field of battle rode bareheaded; his long hair floating, 
so that in riding under the boughs of a tree he was 
caught by the hair. 

" Then," said he, " what fish swallowed Jonah? " 

The reply was, " A whale." 

"Kot so," said the Doctor; and turning to the pas- 
sage, he read: "And the Lord had prepared a great 
fish to swallow Jonah," &c. (Jonah i. 17.) 

" There ! the Lord prepared that fish expressly for 



490 NOT A WHALE. 

that purpose. It was not a whale — all naturalists 
know that a whale could not swallow a man." 

This interesting conversation continued for some 
time, quite a group of interested listeners having gath- 
ered round the talkers. Several illustrations were 
given to show how carelessly many persons read the 
Bible, and how strangely absurd are some of the quo- 
tations. 

But I must say I am grieved, and my heart grows 
sad, at the efforts by good men to sustain the drinking 
customs by the Bible. Our aim is to lead men to the 
"Word of God, and to the Church of Christ. But 
when such are told that they are all wrong, that total 
abstinence is unscriptural, — when the minister who 
preaches the gospel, to which we commend them, 
declares that it is fanaticism to abstain, that the Saviour 
used wine, — it seems to me like striking the knuckles 
of some poor shipwrecked creature who is clinging to 
the life-boat. 

I will just say to the reformed man: When infidels 
tell you that Jesus Christ made and drank an article 
of which the Bible says, " Look not on the wine when 
it is red," give no reply but this, " I do not believe it." 
An infidel told me that Jesus made sixty gallons of 
intoxicating wine for drinking when the whole com- 
pany was drunk. All I could say was, " I do not be- 
lieve it." When an infidel tells you that Jesus Christ 
was guilty of immorality, when He bade His disciples 
all to drink that which is condemned in the Scriptures 
as a " mocker," do not believe him. And when, which 
is far worse in my estimation, a Christian minister or 
editor, or professor, tells you that Jesus Christ was a 
drinking man, a moderate drinker of intoxicating 
wine ; that He drank and commended that which the 



DO NOT BELIEVE IT. 491 

Bible declares " biteth like a serpent and stingeth like 
an adder ; " that He gave to others that of which the 
Bible says, " Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor 
drink;" that He made and used, and gave to others, 
that which is called the " wine of astonishment," the 
wine through which " the priest and prophet have 
erred " and " are out of the way, through which they 
err in vision and stumble in judgment," through 
which " all tables are full of vomit and filthiness, so 
that there is no place clean ; " that which is called the 
" poison of dragons," and the " cruel venom of asps ;" 
that Jesus Christ, our Saviour, made and drank, and 
gave to others, that which you cannot touch without 
danger, — tell them you do not believe it. 

Do not attempt argument with them, for they will 
laugh you to scorn for daring to attack them with 
your limited education, and will overwhelm you with 
tiroshj yayin^ oinos, gleuJcos, and other words you do 
not understand, and they will bring Oriental trav- 
ellers, returned missionaries, Jewish rabbis, learned 
men, to testify against you, — still tell them you do 
not believe it. There are men on the other side as 
learned as they are, who deny their position altogether. 

Let them bring all the travellers that have ever trav- 
elled; all the missionaries that have ever returned; all 
the Hebrew scholars that have ever lived; all the 
Jewish rabbis, from the first to the present; and then 
bring Paul and all the apostles, and all the prophets, 
priests and kings, of whom we have any record in the 
Bible, as evidence, — let them pour out all their learn- 
ing and knowledge of languages, — answer them not 
a word but that you do not believe it. 

But do this : Carefully and prayerfully study the life 
of Christ; His mission, His example, His infinite con- 



492 no! no! no! 

descension and love, His pity for the fallen. His going 
about doing good, His sympathetic ministrations. 
Study Him well, and you cannot believe that He who 
taught you to pray " Lead us not into temptation," 
would commend to you that which is the great temp- 
tation of your life, against which you fight day by 
day, and to which, if you yield, you can never see His 
face, but are banished with adulterers, liars, and all 
the wicked from His presence forever. Will you, can 
you believe that He sets you an example you cannot 
follow? No! no! no! Then let us "stand up for 
Jesus ; " and notwithstanding all the attempts of any 
ministers in His name to fix on Him the charge of 
encouraging wine-bibbing by His example, and pre- 
cept, — let "US lovingly, trusting Him and relying on 
His grace, pursue the path of safety, confidently 
believing that He approves our efforts to present our 
" bodies a living sacrifice." This is my advice to any 
reformed drunkard. Let others attempt to make good 
this charge against Jesus as a moderate drinker of 
alcoholic stimulants. Mix not up in what Dr. Fowler 
calls " undistributed muddle." We will let them fight 
it out, while we thank Him for the total abstinence 
that was the means of grace with His blessing by 
which we have, as we trust, escaped as a bird out of 
the snare of the fowler. I do not suppose that all 
the Christian advocates of the intoxicating wine- 
drinking of our Saviour mean to hinder the poor 
reformed drunkard from adopting the safe principle, 
but indirectly it is a hindrance, and a stumbling-block 
to many. 

I pray God that the time may come when the re- 
formed drunkard may find a safe refuge in every 



A EEDEEMED OUTCAST. 493 

church. It is a consolation that Christ often receives 
those whom His churcli despises. 

When I was in Indiana, at one time, a lady told me 
that during a revival a poor outcast woman attempted 
to enter the place of worship, and was rudely pushed 
back, with a threat of calling the police. She sadly 
turned her back on the door open for others, but 
closed to her, and knelt down on the grass in the 
yard of the church, and told Jesus, when He met her 
and pardoned her. This lady furthermore told me 
that she never witnessed such a death-scene as at the 
bed-side of this poor redeemed outcast; it was glori- 
ous, — the exercise of simple faith in Him who 
received her whom others rejected. 

I gladly acknoAvledge that there are churches, and 
many of them, who hold out the hand of friendship 
and cordial sympathy for the reformed drunkard; but 
there are too many where he can find no safe refuge, 
where the preaching, the precept, and the example 
are all against him. 



CHAPTEE XXXV 



WAR WITH DRIKK. — TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS. 
woman's work and INELUENCE. 



The National Temperance Society — Women's Christian Temperance 
Union — The Blue and Red Ribbon Armies — American Temperance 
Society — Growth of the Work — Washingtonian Movement — Grow- 
ing Unpopularity of Washingtonianism — Favorite Epithets — "We 
don't want any Religion in the Movement " — Poor Tom Marshall — 
Danger to Reform Clubs — Sympathy demanded for the Lost — Give 
me .Reformed Man Work — The Temperance Hall a Place of Safety 
— The Dirt and Discomforts of some so-called Temperance Hotels — 
Personal Experience — The "Model" and "Central" Coffee Houses 
of Philadelphia — The Medical Question — Rum by the Keg — Physi- 
cian giving Poison for Health — Heroism and Fanaticism — " Stand to 
your Principle.'' 




IME and space forbid more than an 
allusion to the various organizations 
now engaged in the work of enlighten- 
ing the public mind in reference to the 
great drink question, in efforts to ob- 
tain legislative enactments, and the 
circulation of temperance literature; 
the Good Templars, the Sons of Temper- 
ance, the Temples of Honor, and kindred 
associations, all aiming at and working for the same 
results. 

One of the chief of these agencies is the National 

494 



women's temperakce UNioi^. 495 

Temperance Society and Publication House,* whose 
principal object is the distribution of a sound and 
reliable temperance literature. The last annual re- 
port is a valuable document. In it the managers say 
that the society has had in its business department 
the most prosperous year of its existence, and that, 
" while drinking and drunkenness may have increased 
in some of our cities, the cause of temperance in the 
country at large has never made as gratifying ad- 
vances as during the years just ended, or stood as 
well before the nation as it does to-day." 

The Women's JSTational Christian Temperance Union 
was organized in ]N"ovember, 1874. This society was 
the direct outgrowth of the crusade, — a most won- 
derful work, which roused the whole people to a con- 
sideration of the evils of drunkenness, creating an 
interest such as the country had never seen since the 
days of "Washingtonianism, forty years ago. It has 
had a marvellous growth and an amazing success. 
Mrs. Wittenmyer's Handbook of the Women's 'Na- 
tional Christian Temperance Union is a most interest- 
ing and valuable document. I consider the Union to 
be the most efficient organization in this country to- 
day. I believe it has accomplished more permanent 
good in the short period of its existence than any 
other for forty ^^ears past. These Christian women 
have worked among children in Juvenile Unions, 
Bands of Hope, Sunday schools, and day schools. 
" Much gospel work has been done outside the 
churches, in cottage meetings, in halls, and on camp- 
grounds." " Reform clubs have been organized, and 
reformatory homes for women established, and in 
every possible way that Christian women could work 

* The offices of this society are at No. 58 Reade Street, New York. 



4:96 GOSPEL TEMPERAISTCE. 

the interests of the cause have been pressed all along 
the line. And through it all continuous prayer has 
been maintained; for wherever there is a Woman's 
Temperance Union, there a consecrated band of Chris- 
tian women meet to pray. Prayer is the vital breath 
of this society, and the watchword is, ' In God we 
trust.' " 

Springing from and growing out of this grand work 
of the women, are the reform clubs, and the blue or 
red ribbon armies, spreading all over this land, and 
stretching across the Atlantic. Most of these organi- 
zations are now effectually doing good service for the 
cause of temperance. 

"We are in the habit of speaking of the "Gospel 
Temperance Movement " as if it were some new thing. 
The first effectual effort to stem the tide of intemper- 
ance was made by Christian men. I would commend 
to those who are desirous of knowing the inception 
and development of the temperance reform, to read 
the " History of the Temperance Movement," by Rev. 
J. B. Dunn, 'D.D., which is embodied in the Centen- 
nial Temperance volume, published by the National 
Society. It is, in my opinion, the most clear, com- 
pact, concise, and yet nearly exhaustive history that 
has ever been written. 

The American Temperance Society was formed in 
1826. The pledge was, " Total abstinence from ardent 
spirits." Who were the promoters and members of 
that association? Christian men, such as Rev. Leon- 
ard Woods, D.D., Rev. Justin Edwards, John Tap- 
pan, S. Y. S. Wilder, Rev. Dr. Hewitt, Rev. Wilham 
Collier, Rev. E. W. Hooker, and Dr. Lyman Beecher, 
who preached his six celebrated sermons that year. 

In 1829, a day was set apart for fasting and prayer 



WASHiNGTONiAiirrsM. 497 

on account of intemperance. The !N'ew York State 
society was organized; the Connecticut State society 
was formed. The officers of tlie latter organization 
were such men as Rev. Jeremiah Day, D.D., Presi- 
dent of Yale College, and Rev. Calvin Chapin. And 
so the cause grew and prospered, steadily increasing 
in power with men like Dr. Mussey, Dr. Hosack, Dr. 
Hitchcock, and Professor Wayland. In 1831, there 
were societies in every State, except Maine, Alabama, 
Louisiana, Illinois, and Missouri; until, in 1836, at a 
convention in Saratoga, the total-abstinence pledge 
from all intoxicating beverages was adopted, and has 
been the recognized and only pledge for more than 
forty years. 

In 1840, the Washingtonian movement commenced. 
Dr. Jewett said that at that time nineteen-twentieths 
of the clergy were total abstainers. Washingtonian- 
ism became popular. All other effort seemed to lose 
its attraction, and truly it was a great work. Men 
who had been hopeless drunkards reformed and be- 
came public teachers. The spirit of the movement 
was the gospel spirit of charity, kindness, and sym- 
pathy for the suffering wrong-doer. The law of love 
was the "Washingtonian law. Soon faithful men who 
had borne the heat and burden of the day, who had 
endured persecution for truth's sake, were startled to 
hear themselves called old fogies, slow, men who did 
not understand the first principles of the reform. 
Men became leading reformers who were not qualified 
by experience, or training, or education, to lead, and 
out of them a class sprung up who became dictato- 
rial, and sometimes insolent. Irreligious men insulted 
in some instances ministers of religion who had been 
hard workers for temperance; reformed drunkards 



d98 MISTAKES or EEFORMERS. 

sneered at those who had never been intemperate, as 
if former degradation was the only quaUfication for 
leadership. 

I was a Washingtonian rescued by the spirit of 
"Washiiigtonianism, and testify of what I know in 
saying that more than one minister of the gospel shut 
the door of his church against some of these men, 
because he could not sit still and hear in his own 
pulpit, before his own people and the children of his 
charge, such loose and sometimes vulgar utterances 
as were occasionally heard. Any remonstrance was 
construed at once into opposition to the cause itself, 
rather than to their method. 

All advocacy of law was denounced as opposed to 
"Washingtonianism, and many men who had been 
prominent not only for their zeal in the temperance 
cause, but also for their ability and Christian charac- 
ter, were thrown into the background. I do not say 
that this spirit was universal, but there was enough 
of it to become an element of weakness which grew 
into disease, and "Washingtonianism as an ism passed 
away; and now I hardly suppose there is a society 
called by that name in the country, while in the palmy 
days of the movement every town and village had its 
society. 

•My firm belief then and now is that no moral move- 
ment can live other than a brief spasmodic existence 
that would wipe God out of it, and ignore or contend 
against the Christian element. I have before me 
two volumes of scraps collected from the temper- 
ance papers of 1844-46. This was about the time 
when some of the societies would have no members 
but those who had been drunkards ; who would per- 
mit no minister of the gospel to take any part in their 



THE rmST ATTACK. 499 

exercises; who occupied the whole of the Sabbath- 
day in meeting, relating experiences, and singing 
songs that were occasionally objectionable. I give 
from these papers a few extracts. After I had re- 
turned from my first visit to the western part of New 
York state, in company with Rev. John Marsh, I gave 
an account of my tour. The following extracts are 
from that speech in the Tremont Temple, taken from 
the Mercantile Journal in August, 1844: 

*' He [Mr. Gough] stated that in some places he visited he was in- 
formed by the leading Washington? ans that Washingtonianism, as an 
ism, was dead; that it had done all it could, and the cause was now 
falling back. The reason assigned for this was, that the people in these 
places had become disgusted with the many follies dragged before the 
public in connection with Washingtonianism, theatrical exhibitions, &c. ; 
and what is most important, infidelity had attached itself to the car of 
Washingtonianism, and. impeded its progress by endeavoring to drag 
itself into notice and standing in connection with it. 

" To the dismay of thousands, men are found advancing Washingto- 
nianism and infidelity at the same breath, and some presses in our country 
are devoted to this object. Men of respectability and standing, men of 
moral feeling, and old temperance men stand aloof from a cause shackled 
with these evils, and call for a new order of things. They will not give 
their influence until Washingtonianism has freed itself of these dead 
weights, and stands forth in its original purity and beauty. 

" He [Mr. Gough] said that in every place he visited there was a good 
feeling existing towards the cause of temperance, but it needed to be 
brought out and properly directed. . . . 

" In one place there had not been a social Washingtonian meeting 
held for eighteen months. Two of the leading men in the cause endeav- 
ored to raise funds to hire a hall to hold meetings. After canvassing the 
town, upon comparing notes it was found one had obtained a dollar and 
forty cents, and the other a dollar and ten cents. What was the cause 
of tliis apathy, this backwardness? It was what he had already stated — 
the people were disgusted with the many follies and evils Avhich had 
attached themselves to the movement." 

For these utterances I was subjected to an attack, 
which being the first, wounded me sorely. In Octo- 
ber I was thus severely called to account for mixing 
orthodoxy with my temperance utterances : 



500 NO EELIGIIOI^. 

«' We beg Mr. Gough to pause, ere he lends his powers to any secta- 
rian use in the holy cause of temperance. He is a reformed man, and 
has ample evidence in his own glorious experience of the all-conquering 
power of the true Washingtonian principles, and motives innumerable 
to lay before the poor inebriate in urging his reformation, without going 
into the future world for them, — motives connected with this life, with 
the poor sufferer's own temporal well-being and happiness." 

Whenever I attempted to appeal to the drunkard 
on the ground of sin against God, or men's responsi- 
biUty to God, or in view of future retribution, I was 
either snubbed or soundly rated for introducing 
" men's eternal interests, of which I knew nothing," 
&c. Some of the notices are quite amusing at this 
late day, but at the time I felt them keenly. I quote 
from the scraps before me: 

"A religious bigot and ignoramus." 
*' Perverting the cause to sectarian ends." 

" Dwelling on a set of motives which he knows never had an agency 
in promoting this glorious reform." 

These are specimens of the utterances of a portion 
of the press devoted to the interests of "Washingto- 
nianism. I doubt if there are any of these papers in 
existence now; I know not of one. 

Mr. Mitchell, the originator of the movement, was 
received in 1843 by the people of Boston. I have 
given a description of that grand demonstration in 
my Autobiography. I think there has been nothing 
like it since. He .went with me to Salem, and ex- 
pressed himself very strongly against the introduc- 
tion of anything religious, and said, " We don't want 
any religion in the movement." 

I heard the Hon. Thomas Marshall, of Kentucky, 
make a ten minutes' speech in Broadway Tabernacle, 
at the close of an address of mine, in which he said: 
^^Were this great globe one chrysolite, and I were 



CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 501 

offered the possession if I would drink one glass of 
brandy, I would refuse it with scorn; and I want no 
religion, I want the temperance pledge." With that 
wonderful voice of his he thundered out: "We want 
no religion in this movement; let it be purely secular, 
and keep religion where it belongs." Poor Tom 
Marshall, with all his self-confidence, fell, and died 
at Poughkeepsie in clothes given him by Christian 
charity. 

I know I shall not be — for I cannot be — misunder^ 
stood, if I say that in some of our reform clubs I see 
a tendency to just such a practical repudiation of 
divine help and assistance. I will make no speeificar 
tions, except to say that I know some reform clubs 
that sadly need reforming. 

The results of Washingtonianism were grand;, I 
would not depreciate the work; and there were many 
who labored faithfully and truly to the end of their 
lives, like John Hawkins and others. But why should 
not Washingtonianism be a power in this land now? 
To be sure, the Blue-Ribbon and Eed-Pibbon Ai^mies 
have sprung up in the country, and are doing im- 
mense good. The principle of charity for the intem- 
perate, pity that moves to help, sympathy that offers 
the hand to lift up, are the same as in the other move- 
ment ; but when all this charity is Christian, when the 
pity is Christ-like pity, when the sympathy is Christian 
sympathy, there is the element of permanence; and I 
believe that the element of decay is in the irreligious, 
loose methods adopted by so many workers in the 
earlier day. The temperance cause is not strictly a 
religious enterprise; it is a secular movement; but 
the religious element in it is the measure of its suc- 
cesSj and the absence of that element is its decay. 
31 



502 "do is^ot turn me out." 

A very important fact not to be ignored is that the 
drunkard, when he would reform, needs help, human 
help, human practical sympathy. I have before me a 
letter, sent by a very dear friend who is engaged in 
evangelical work, enclosing another letter that he 
received from a man redeemed from drink after a 
course of intemperance and degradation. After de- 
scribing his conversion, the reformed man says : 

"And now, dear brother, yoii must pardon me if I add a word regard- 
ing the duty of Christians toward those whom the Lord has saved from 
that awful vice. Tliere is a common belief amongst good people that a 
reformed inebriate has to endure the scoffs and sneers of his former 
associates, but that he is consoled and strengthened by the rallying 
around him of Christian people. I have heard you say from the plat- 
form, in exhorting the inebriate converts to go to work and do some- 
thing useful, that they would see how the churches would rally around 
them. ISTow you must pardon me for saying that all such talk involves a 
double error : the former associates do not scoff, and the churches do not 
rally. And my purpose in writing this letter is to implore you, in behalf 
of that unfortunate class, to use your gi'eat influence with Christian 
people, wherever you may be, to take those poor castaways by the hand 
in a sense other than metaphorical. 

" What they need is work, — honest, useful work. See that they 
have it. See that they have a chance, by hard and honest work in any 
avocation for which they are qualified, to rear again on this fair earth — 
which belongs, not to Christians, as too many of them seem to think, but 
to Christ — the edifice of a noble character. I know you think this is 
done; but, believe me, it is not. Magnificent opportunities for worship 
and for spiritual guidance are indeed afforded, and I thank God for it ; 
but preaching was not the greatest need of the man who fell among 
thieves : what he most needed was to have his wounds bound up, and be 
taken to an inn." 

A man during the first struggle with his enemy 
needs a refuge, a place of safety. The poor fellow who 
came into a temperance club-room very drunk, when 
asked why he was there, said, " Do not turn me out. 
I know I am drunk; but I have just signed the 
pledge, and I came in here for safety." Therefore 
with all my heart do I approve these refuges for the 



SHAM TEMPERAl^CE HOUSES. 503 

intemperate men, especially during the first few days 
of their conflict. I am speaking of those who fight 
against the terrible craving; for a man who has no 
appetite to conquer needs no help. I do not mean 
fashionable boarding-houses, where men can go as to 
a hospital to be cured of a disease simply, but to a 
home where he may find Christian sympathy, and be 
led to the only source of refuge, — where appeals are 
made to his conscience, representing his drunkenness 
not as a mere peccadillo that he may commit when he 
will with no moral obliquity, but a sin against his 
body and soul, and a sin against God. 

The coffee-palace movement in England has been 
productive of great good. I have no S3^mpathy with 
many places called " temperance houses," where they 
charge as much for dirt and discomfort as you are 
required to pay for cleanliness and comfort in any 
other place ; trading on your principles, palming off 
damaged goods upon you, and swindling in the sa- 
cred name of Temperance. I have patronized these 
houses until, becoming disgusted, and for the sake of 
my health, I have been compelled to seek entertain- 
ment at other houses, or stay in the street. I do not 
pretend to say that all temperance houses are of this 
base character, but many are, and have been a dis- 
grace to the name, until among many good people 
" Temperance House " has been only another name 
for dirt, discomfort, and overcharging, with incivility. 
There are first-class houses, kept by earnest and honest 
men, that are a credit to the cause, and deserve our 
■patronage and recommendation. 

These coffee-houses should be made as clean and 
attractive as any of the gaudy liquor-shops. l^o 
man cares to go for refreshments into a dark, dingy, 



504 MODEL COFFEE-HOUSE. 

unsavory place ; and his temperance principles must 
be very strong to induce him to pass by a place clean, 
cheery, and bright, for one of those places, simply 
because there is a sign hung out declaring it to be a 
temperance saloon or refreshment-room. 

I once went into one of these, decoyed by the sign- 
board, and sat down at a table where the cloth looked 
like a map of the United States, stained with mus- 
tard, coffee, and grease, crumbs scattered all over it; 
the place reminding you of Coleridge's description of 
Cologne, in wdiich he counted seventy- five distinct 
smells. I called for a steak, and can hardly describe 
the sights that met my eyes while that steak was in 
preparation. First the bread was put on the table, — 
not a very attractive loaf; then some butter that had 
been cut with a dirty knife. The steak, how can that 
be described! It reminded you of the man who 
refused to partake of a similar steak on the ground 
that it w^as an infringement of Goody ear's patent for 
India rubber. I asked for a cup of tea. It came, 
reminding you again of the customer who said, " If 
this is tea, I want coffee; if it is coffee, I want tea." 
In the sugar a wet spoon had been so often dipped that 
it had caked into little drops of discolored sweetness. 
The spoon itself was sticky ; and the whole affair was 
so utterly destructive to all healthy appetite, that I 
left as hungry as I entered. 

These coffee-houses may be made very attractive, 
like the " Model " and " Central " in Philadelphia, es- 
tablished in 1874 by Joshua Bailey, Esq., and feeding 
four thousand daily. This is a private enterprise, and 
wholly sustained by Mr. Bailey. The " Model," for 
completeness in its accommodations, has no superior 
in the world. A company has been formed in New 



AS A MEDICINE. 505 

York, " The ISTew York CofFee-House Company," and 
one in Brooklyn, organized as the " Sailors' CoiFee- 
House and Reading-Room." These and similar es- 
tablishments nnder the right superintendence may be 
and Avill be of great service to the cause of reform. 

The medical aspect of the temperance question has 
been ably discussed by some of the first physicians 
of the day, both in this country and on the continent 
of Europe. So many v/orks have been published on 
the subject during the last few years, that I will sim- 
23ly say that I never use it as a medicine under any 
circumstances whatever, and furthermore will employ 
no doctor who is in the habit of constantly prescribing 
alcoholic drinks. 

Dr. Richardson gives his method of prescription in 
his address to the medical profession. He says : 

" As a therapeutical agent, I have never exchided alcohol from my 
practice. But this is what I have done for nine years past: I have, 
whenever I thought I wanted its assistance, prescribed it purely as a 
chemical medicinal substance, in its pure form, in precise doses, in defi- 
nite order of time. As I have prescribed amyl nitrite, or chloroform, or 
ether, so I have prescribed alcohol. 

" By this method I have an absolute experience of the clinical use of 
alcohol, which, I think I may safely say, does not belong to many other 
prescribing piiysicians. There are thousands of physicians who, in the 
same time, have probably prescribed alcoholic fluids a hundred times to 
my single time; but if they were to be asked the precise doses they have 
ordered, the actual purity of the substances they have ordered, they 
would be quite unable, in most cases, to answer at all. So many ounces 
of wine, so many ounces of brandy or whiskey, really means nothing at 
all that Is reliable. Therefore an absolute experience of alcohol, and 
that only, is a novelty." 

But I know there are physicians who prescribe it 
l3y the keg; that is, the patient is ordered to provide 
himself with a keg, or so many dozen bottles of ale, 
and take a glass when he feels a sinking, &c. I am 
of Dr. Richardson's opinion, that a physician before 



506 PEIl^CIPLE A RULE OF LIFE. 

all other men should be straight and square in his 
testimony against drunkenness and that which pro- 
duces it. I quote again from him: 

"A doctor whose example turns the scale ever so little toward intem- 
perance; a doctor who treats this question as a joke; the doctor, more- 
over, who devotes his energies to his calling of saving life, and who, with 
forty thousand of his fellow country-folk dying yearly around him from 
one cause, and who toward that cause exhibits indifference, or careless- 
ness, or apathy, — what pretensions has he to be a healer? Where is his 
honor, to say no word of his feeling? What if some other great cause 
of mortality — say, of consumption — were at work, slaying its thou- 
sands annually, and that cause were as well known to him as this cause, 
would he toward that be equally indifferent? Would he hand it about, 
partake of it himself, give it to his children, laugh at those who are 
wearying to sweep it away, or tell the afflicted from it that it is a neces- 
sity? I am sure he would scorn to do any such thing," 

I leave the question to medical and scientific men, 
only advising my reformed friend never to take it as 
a medicine. Die rather than run the risk of being 
ensnared by the deceiver that so nearly destroyed 
you. There is no physician who will or does pre- 
scribe it for me; they know I will not take such a 
prescription ; and when they know you will not take 
itj they will cease to prescribe it for you. 

The principle of total abstinence, taking the word 
principle to mean a rule of life, should be to us a 
reality, not to be laid down or taken up at the dictates 
of custom, fashion, habit, or craving, but to be held 
as a sacred rule to be observed always and at all 
hazards. Let the opposers call us fanatics. We are 
in good company. Canon Wilberforce says : " I am 
a fanatic on this question of drink." Shall we not be 
willing to suifer for the sake of the interests of the 
cause to which we owe so much? Let no physician 
drive or coax us from our position. Let it be for us 
reformed men an impregnable one. 



ENTHUSIASM, NOT PEENZT. 507 



In a Scotcli town last year I was suffering fearfully 
with neuralgia. It seemed as though fingers of fire 
were feeling for every nerve in my face, and I could 
not forbear crying out with the severe pain. A gen- 
tleman asked me if I would take a glass of brandy 
if I knew it would afford relief. When I said no, he 
told me I was a fanatic. How easy it is to use a term 
for reproach ! Many a man has been frightened from 
a good work at the cry of fanaticism. They mistake 
enthusiasm for frenzy. If a man dies in defence of 
his country's flag, even in an unrighteous war, men 
call him a hero ; if a man dies for a principle, he is a 
fanatic. Let me tell those who would sneer at us for 
our consistency, that it often requires more courage 
to endure the sneers of companions, the pitying shake 
of the head from friends, and the expressed contempt 
of society, than to face the cannoii's mouth on the 
field of battle. Many a man would mount the " immi- 
nent deadly breach," rather than face the " slow-moving 
finger of scorn." So I say to my reformed brethren: 
Stand to your principle. If you make it the rule of 
your life to abstain, stand to it, suffer for it, and if 
need be die for it; and may God help us all that we 
fall not back into the bondage that so many call free- 
dom, and are deceived thereby. 



CHAPTEE XXXyi. 



STKIKINa EXTERIENCES. 




Compensations of Old Age — This Young Man — The Old Warrior — 
Amusing Peculiarities of Public Life — The Liverpool Barber — " 'Enery, 
sweep up this 'Air " — Great Changes — Reforms — Improvements — • 
Children are Forces — An Important Question — Casket and Jewel — 
Testimonial presented — Boys' Work Twenty-five Years ago — The 
Results — Drunkard's Child — " My Little Testament " — Testament 
sold for Whiskey — " God be merciful! " — " Evil Habits " — Custom 
and Habit — No Man lost on a Straight Road — A Good Resolution — 
Hugh Miller. 



LD age has been described as a " pecu- 
liarly wretched state," nothing attrac- 
tive in its appearance, and in the reality 
^^(Z^ only an evil. Even Shakspeare could 
^^ " not avoid admitting its drawbacks: 



' When thou art old and rich 

Thou hast neither heart, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
To make thy riches pleasure." 



The inconveniences of old age are manifold. Old 
age cannot be cured, but the necessary consequences 
may be alleviated. There may be many glorious com- 
pensations to those advanced in years. To the young, 
old age and faiUng strength appear to be an unmiti- 
gated evil. "When I was a boy of twelve, or even a 
man of twenty-one, I looked upon fifty years of life 
as I now look upon one hundred; always having a 
dread of living to be old, associating decrepitude with 

508 




"WELL^ OLD MA^." 509 

age. Now, at sixty-three, I suffer no sensible diminu- 
tion of strength, except in a lessening of the ability 
for active exertion. I remember the first time I was 
called an old man. Some years since, I was travel- 
ling through Boston to the sea-side, with some of my 
family, and, while I was looking earnestly at a valise 
I was not quite sure of, a man who was taking the 
luggage from the car called out, "Well, old man, 
what are you looking after? " It sounded queer then, 
but I am used to it now. 

It is quite amusing to look over the earlier notices 
of my personal appearance; and it seems so short a 
time since I was spoken of as a young man. " This 
young man with dark hair; " " This pale, thin young 
man, looking so attenuated that a tolerably persever- 
ing gust of wind would have no difficuhy in pufiing him 
to any required part of the compass." 'Now, I read 
of "the venerable speaker," "the veteran," "the old 
warrior," &c. At first I was not pleased at these 
public reminders of age, or at the constant remarks 
by persons of no tact: " Ah, age is telhng on you! " 
" You are not as young as you were ! " " You are 
getting old ! " " How very gray you are getting ! " &c. 
Though why I should object, is a mystery, for it is 
my own fault if my gray hairs are not honorable. Yet 
we do shrink from free remarks about our personal ap- 
pearance, and especially from personal depreciation. 

I remember going from Brooklyn to Flushing, L. 
I., with a party of friends, many years since. I was 
.to deliver a lecture there. We were somewhat de- 
layed; and when we arrived, the audience had assem- 
bled. I sat for a few minutes on the pulpit-stairs 
w^aiting for the committee, but none appearing I went 
into the desk, and without introduction began my 



510 "like a si:n^ged cat." 

speech. After I had concluded, a man who had 
looked at me rather curiously from the first moment 
of my arrival till the end of my discourse, came up 
to me as I descended the stairs, and holding out his 
hand, said: 

" Well, you are very much like a singed cat ! " 

Having never before heard that the expression, 
" singed cat," was used to denote a person who was 
better than he looked, I was slightly nettled, and asked 
one of my friends — who reminded me of the fact the 
other day — why that man should say I was like a 
" singed cat," and whether he meant it as an offence. 

One of the amusing peculiarities of public life is 
in the remarks so freely uttered and frequently over- 
heard. 

The last day of my first visit to England I was in 
Liverpool. I had spoken the evening before, and was 
to give my farewell speech that evening. In the 
course of the day I went into a barber's shop. While 
the " professor of tonsure," as I saw it announced the 
other day, was practising on my hair, he began to 
speak of the plentiful harvest in America. I said: 

" I sail for America to-morrow." 

" Ah, indeed, sir ! You will have as a fellow-pas- 
senger John B. Gough." 

"Does he sail to-morrow?" 

" Yes ; and I have a ticket to hear him to-night." 

" Have you ever heard him lecture? " 

"ISTo, sir; have you?" 

"Yes." 

"How do you like him?" 

" I do not think much of him." 

" Then you are not a teetotaler? " 

"Yes, lam." 



SOME PUZZLING questio:n"S. 511 

"I wonder yon do not like Mr. Gougii." 

" I said I did not think much of him, not that I did 
not Uke him." 

" Ah, that's very much the same thing ! "What sort 
of an appearing person is he? " 

" A very ordinary-looking person." 

" It is plain to see that you do not like him. What 
might be his size, sir?" 

" About my size, I judge." 

" Have you heard him more than once?" 

" Yes, many times." 

" I should hardly think you would go so often to 
hear him, if you do not like him." 

" I never said I did not like him." 

" I beg your pardon, sir, but do you know him? " 

" Tolerably well." 

" Shall you hear him speak this evening?" 

" Yes, I expect to do so." 

"Did you hear him last evening?" 

"Yes." 

" I have been quite desirous of hearing him, and I 
have secured my ticket. — Does your 'air suit you, 
sir? Shall I put some hoil on it? " 

"1^0, I thank you, it will do very well; and you 
will have the opportunity of studying your w^ork on 
the platform, for you have been cutting Mr. Gough's 
hair." 

" Bless my soul, sir ! I beg your pardon. I 'ope 
I 'ave not said anything wrong, or been in hanny way 
disrespectful." 

" Oh no; on the contrary, you have been. quite com- 
plimentary." 

" So you are Mr. Gongh. I shall 'ear 3^ou to-night. 
— 'Enery, sweep up all this 'air, and take care of it. 



512 EVIDENCES OF PROGRESS. 

Good-bye, sir. I am glad I 'ave 'ad the hopportunity 
and the honor of cutting your 'air." 

As I contemplate the past, how much there is to fill 
the thought and stir the pulses in view of the wonderful 
progress in all directions, and the great changes that 
have taken place since my remembrance, and even 
since my first entry on public life. 

In 1842, Louis Phihppe was king of the French. 
In 1848 came the Republic, growing into the Empire. 
Again, in 1871, after the Commune, came the Repub- 
lic, routing the Empire. Four great wars have agi- 
tated Europe: the Crimean, the Italian, the Franco- 
German, and the war of Russia with Turkey. In 
1857, the great Indian mutiny startled the world. In 
1847 occurred the war of the United States with 
Mexico, and in 1861 commenced the war for the 
Union. 

What great reforms have been inaugurated in the 
past forty years ! In nearly all the civilized portions 
of the globe, from Japan to christianized Madagascar, 
from India to our own free country, the battle is going 
on, and the fight becomes more earnest. Glance 
rapidly over the world and see. The United States 
has given freedom to her slaves; Russia has eman- 
cipated her millions of serfs. Germany is fighting 
the double battle in sight of the world, with a keen, 
relentless, moral despotism on the one hand, and on 
the other the struggle between the license of mate- 
rialism and the freedom that walks in steadfast obe- 
dience to Divine law. Italy, instead of being a nest 
of petty states, united only in dense ignorance and 
abject slavery, now walks among the nations, free to 
drain her stagnant moral marshes; free to say to all 
her people, " Rise, for thy light has come." France 



QUEEX OF MADAGASCAR. 513 

has made leap after leap for civil and political free- 
dom and equal rights ; and though not yet landed on 
the safe side, still her dissatisfactions are noble, and 
inspire the world with sympathy toward her struggles. 
England is bravely grappUng with internal problems, 
and burden after burden is being hfted from the 
shoulders of her people. Turkey is being pierced 
with loopholes for light. Egypt tolerates Christian 
schools. Spain has seen the Inquisition crumble. 
China's emperor is moving to prevent opium from 
paralyzing his mihions of subjects. Japan asks of 
the United States teachers of schools after the method 
of to-day, and takes the Christian Sabbath for her 
Sabbath; — all this when her ports with one exception 
were barred against the commerce of the world at the 
opening of this century. Hear thQ proclamation of 
the queen of Madagascar, where till recently heathen- 
ism reigned supreme, with savage cruelties and per- 
secutions to the death of all who dared avow the 
Christian name: 

" I, Ranovalomajaka, by the grace of God, and the 
will of my people. Queen of Madagascar, defender 
of the laws of my kingdom, this is what I say to you, 
my subjects: God has given me this land and king- 
dom; and concerning the rum, you and I have agreed 
it shall not be sold, because it does harm to your per- 
sons, to your wives and children; makes foolish the 
wise, makes more foolish the foolish, and causes 
people not to fear the laws of the kingdom, and 
especially makes them guilty before God." 

After encouraging the people to trade in good 
things, the queen declares: 

" I am not ashamed to make laws in my kingdom 
which shall do you good; therefore, I tell you if 



514 " WHAT SHALL IT BE ? " 

there are people who break my law, I must punish 
them." 

Christian associations now flourish in the Fiji 
Islands, where cannibalism reigned supreme forty 
years ago. India and Slam and Persia are saying, 
through thousands of now Christian voices, " The 
entrance of Thy words giveth light." And the 
islands of the sea are flocking to the standard of 
liberty and Bible light, as doves come to their 
windows. 

In that which tends to personal comfort and na- 
tional advancement, more has been accomplished, and 
grander achievements have been realized in this cen- 
tury, than in all the previous lifetime of our race. 
Since my entrance into public life, the changes have 
been wonderful. The improvements in the modes of 
locomotion and communication are amazing. Pho- 
tography, chloroform, the electric telegraph, sewing- 
machines, telephones, and many inventions strange 
and curious at the beginning, now rank among the 
necessities of our present mode of life. 

We are almost bewildered as we look back on the 
past; and, seeking to penetrate the future, we ask, 
" What shall it be when the present generation has 
passed away?" How important it is that those who 
are to fill our places should feel the responsibility 
that all this light and development devolves on them! 
They must reap as they sow, and in the far future 
will be garnered the harvest of their sowing. 

To me a company of children is a most impressive 
and suggestive sight. The little creatures are forces 
m the world for good or evil ; for none can possibly 
be neutral in the contest of the ages, — of right 
against wrong, of truth against falsehood, of Christ 



TRUE PROPAGANDISTS. 515 

against Belial, the kingdom of this world arrayed 
against the kingdom of our God and of His Christ. 
With all my heart I rejoice and take courage in view 
of the fact that a revival of the temperance work 
among children is taking place. At three important 
Sunday-school conventions it has been accorded a 
prominent place, and I have been privileged to speak 
on these occasions. At the experiment at Framing- 
ham this year, in imitation of the very successful 
Chautauqua conventions, there was a temperance day. 
From England, Dr. B. W. Kichardson writes, in a 
letter I lately received from him: 

" Our cause is still making good progress. The 
young are getting more and more imbued, and they 
are the propagandists of the true stamp." 

Here the question comes to me, What is the most 
valuable thing that has ever challenged my attention 
in these thirty-eight years of contact with life ? 
What now seems the most precious occupation for 
the most choicely endowed men and women of this 
day and time? Who that takes this thought in mind 
from any altitude can give any other answer than 
this, that the children of this land are beyond all 
comparison the forces that should be first and last 
considered in all national, patriotic, municipal, family, 
and individual aspirations and plans? All the educa- 
tional institutions, all legislative enactments, all social 
customs, every adult example, often the unstudied 
sentence, touches with beauty or blight this fairest 
thing in all creation, this most powerful influence, 
this subtlest and most glorious force, this indestruc- 
tible life, a little child. Casket and jewel, both so 
exquisitely formed, having such possibilities of light, 
fire, attraction, nothing on earth can equal it. And 



516 SAVE THE childre:n". 

yet this lovely gift to the world is left, in thousands 
of cases, to be bent and warped and jostled into the 
ugliest and most dangerous forms, corroded by at- 
mospheres that eat into all its proiliising outlines, 
while those who are called by every high motive to 
reverse all these conditions are using up their lives in 
scrambling for things which, when obtained, shall 
bring no satisfaction to themselves nor benefit to 
others. 

It seems to me no occupation can be so important 
or require such choice qualities as the care and guid- 
ance of children, and that it should be reckoned 
among the most honorable of the professions; and 
that the brain, mind, and heart of the truest, noblest, 
and most conscientious toward G-od and man should 
be the elected ones to guide into the best possibili- 
ties the children. I can desire nothing better for 
this great country, growing with such startling rapid- 
ity, than that a barrier high and strong should be 
raised between the unpolluted lips of the children 
and the intoxicating cup; that everywhere the men 
and women of to-day should raise strong and deter- 
mined hands against whatever will defile the body, 
pollute the mind, or harden the heart against God 
and His truth, of the millions of children in this 
country. God grant we may none of us forget 
who it is that has said, "It were better that a 
millstone were hanged about his neck and he were 
drowned in the depths of the sea," than that he 
should be a means of " offence " to " one of these 
little ones." 

We often underrate the capacity of children to 
work, to be of service in any great movement; and 
yet what great results have been accomplished by the 



A PLEASAISTT EPISODE. 517 

simple but earnest work and influence of the young! 
As an instance of what may be done by the hearty 
and combined efforts of young people, I would relate 
a very pleasant episode in my last experience in 
London. 

At a meeting held in the Congregational chapel, 
Yictoria Park, May 12, 1879, a very beautiful, and 
elegantly engrossed and ornamental testimonial was 
presented to me with the following inscription : 

"This Testimonial 

was presented 

On the 12th of May, 1879, 

TO 

Mr.' JOHN B. GOUGH, 
Temperance Advocate of America, 

on the occasion of his visiting Bonner's Fields to give an oration at a 
chapel erected on the very spot where, some twenty years since, a num- 
ber of 3^onths, inspired by various anecdotes of what good the young 
may accomplish, told in their hearing by Mr. Gough, in Exeter Hall and 
elsewhere, were led to hold open-air meetings, which resulted in the for- 
mation, at Bonner's Lane, Bethnal Green, of the Twig Folly Christian 
Temperance Society and Band of Hope, which has produced great good 
to the neighborhood, and brought out many earnest laborers for the cause 
of temperance, who are still at work, not only in the metropolis, but in 
the country also. As one of the results of your earnest temperance ad- 
vocacy in London, this may be an interesting and encouraging reminis- 
cence during your future labors, which we hope, under God's blessing, 
will be continued to be as useful as heretofore. ... As a grateful ac- 
knowledgment of your many services in the cause, the youths above 
referred to, and the older laborers in the temperance ranks, who helped 
them in their early efforts, beg you to accept their portraits and signa- 
tures." 

Fourteen finely executed photographs surround the 
inscription, and the whole is most superbly designed 
and executed. 

These gentlemen, when boys, determined to do 
what they could for the cause which had interested 
them, and for a beginning of their effort instituted a 
32 



518 



A child's ESHFLUENCE. 



series of out-door meetings in Bonner's Fields, obtain- 
ing speakers from older societies. This led to the 
formation of a society which grew rapidly in influence. 
Branch societies were formed. The parent society 
now numbers seven hundred members, and their aux- 
iliaries number thousands ; and on the spot where they 
held their first feeble meetings the chapel is erected 
in which I spoke, when Sir Charles Reed presided and 
the testimonial was presented. So much for the efforts 
of boys when determined and encouraged. 

The quiet influence of a child has been the means 
of saying the parent. I remember a little history re- 
lated to me many years ago by a Christian abstainer. 
He said he would give me the facts that led to his 
reform, and the circumstance that arrested him in his 
career of sin. 

Two maiden ladies who lived in the village, often 
noticed a scantily clad girl passing their house with a 
tin pail. On one occasion one of these ladies accosted 
her. 

^'Little girl, what have you got in that pail?" 

" Whiskey, ma'am." 

""Where do you live?" 

" Down in the hollow." 

" I'll go home with you." 

They soon came to a wretched hovel in the hollow, 
outside the village. A pale, jaded, worn-out woman 
met them at the door. Inside was a man, dirty, maud- 
lin, and offensive. The lady addressing the woman, 
said: 

"Is this your little girl?" 

"Yes." 

"Does she go to school?" 

" No; she has no other clothes than what you see." 



" MY LITTLE TESTAMENT.'^ 519 

"Does she go to Sunday school?" 

" Sunday school — in these rags ! Oh, no ! " 

" If I furnish her with suitable clothes, can she 
go?" 

" It is of no use giving her clothes. He would steal 
them, and sell them for whiskey. Better let the girl 
alone ; there is no hope for her, or for us." 

" But she ought to go to school." 

An arrangement was entered into whereby the 
child should call at the lady's house on Sunday morn- 
ing, be clothed for the school, and after the school was 
dismissed, call again, and change her garments for 
home. 

The little creature was very teachable, and soon be- 
came a favorite with her teacher, who gave her a little 
Testament, probably the first gift the child had ever 
received. She was very proud of her Testament, ex- 
hibiting it on all occasions with the delighted excla- 
mation : 

" That's my little Testament — my own." 

She would take it with her at night, clasping it in 
her hands till she fell asleep on the wretched rags 
called a bed. The child was taken ill. The doctor 
provided by her benefactors declared she would die. 
Her friends furnished her with what comforts they 
could, and watched the father, lest he should steal 
them and sell them for whiskey. 

The gentleman then continued the narrative in the 
first person: 

" One day I went to her bedside. I was mad for 
drink. I had taken everything I could lay my hands 
on. I looked round the room. There was nothing 
left, nothing I could dispose of. Yet I must have 
drink. I would have sold my child; I would have 



520 "what shall i tell him?" 

sold myself, for whiskey. The little creature lay on 
the bed, with the Testament clasped in her hand, 
partly dozing. As I sat there she fell asleep, and the 
book slipped from her fingers, and lay on the coverlid 
of the bed. Stealthily looking round the room, I 
stretched out my shaking hand, seized the Testament, 
and hastily thrust it into my bosom. I soon sneaked 
out, like a guilty thing, to the grog-shop. All I could 
get for it was half a pint of whiskey. It was a poor 
little book. I drank the Devil's drink almost at a 
draught, and soon felt relieved from the burning 
thirst. The stagnant blood in the diseased vessels of 
my stomach was stimulated by the fiery fluid, and I 
felt better. What took me back to my child I cannot 
tell, but I sat again by her side. She still seemed to 
be sleeping ; and I sat there with the horrible craving 
stayed for the time by the whiskey I had drank, when 
she opened her eyes slowly and saw me. Reaching 
out her hand to touch mine, she said, ' Papa, listen. 
I'm going to die, and when I die I shall go to Jesus; 
for He told little children to come to Him, And I 
shall go to heaven; for He said that little children 
were of the kingdom of heaven. I learned that out 
of my Testament. Papa, suppose when I go to 
heaven Jesus should ask me what you did with my 
little Testament. Oh, papa! oh, papa! what shall I 
tell Him?' It struck me like lightning. I sat a few 
moments, and then fell down on my knees by the bed- 
side of my child, crying, ' God be merciful to me, a 
sinner.' That half-pint of whiskey was the last drop 
of intoxicating liquor that has passed my lips. She 
died in a few days, with her hand in mine, and her 
last words to me were, ^Papa, we shall both go to 
Jesus now.' " 



1 



FORCE OF HABIT. 523 

May Heaven bless the clear children! "We need 
them as workers, and we must remember that drunk- 
enness would die out with the present race of the 
intemperate, death alone would remove the evil in 
thirty years, were there no more drunkards made. 
There is no necessity for the existence of this curse 
to the world. But while men and women use intoxi- 
cating liquors as a beverage, drunkenness will con- 
tinue. All past experience testifies to this. Therefore 
our great hope is in training the children understand- 
ingly to abstain from the use of an article which at 
the best can be but a luxury, and never a necessity as 
a beverage. I am exceedingly glad that public atten- 
tion is drawn to these facts, and we have hope for the 
future. 

What I said in the beginning of ^this book I repeat 
now: "Man is in a great degree the arbiter of his 
own destiny." We can make ourselves w^hat we will. 
Byron said, " I am convinced that men do more harm 
to themselves than ever the Devil can do to them." 
To the young I would say, Beware of the formation 
of evil habits; remember habit is acquired. What 
w^e are accustomed to do gives a facility and prone- 
ness to do. "How shall ye do good who are ac- 
customed to do evil? " Archbishop Whately says, 
" Habits are formed not at one stroke, but gradually 
and insensibly; so that, unless vigilant care be em- 
ployed, a great change may come over the character 
without our being conscious of any." Dr. Johnson 
says, " The diminutive chains of habit are seldom 
heavy enough to be felt till they are too strong to be 
broken." Again, Archbishop Whately makes this 
distinction between custom and habit : " Repeated 
acts constitute the custom, and habit is the condition 



524: l^OKE LOST Ol^ A STRAIGHT EOAD. 

of mind or body thence resulting." Thus the custom 
of diinking produces the habit of craving, and, that 
yielded to, the habit of drunkenness. "By accus- 
toming ourselves to any course of action we acquire 
an aptness to go on, a facility, a readiness, and often 
a pleasure in it; our aversion grows weaker, the diffi- 
culties lessen, and a new character, in many respects 
and habits of life not given by nature, may be formed." 
Acts repeated, like a cable formed by the repetition 
of twisted threads, soon consolidate into habits that 
form a second nature. The power of habit to con- 
solidate virtuous character is illustrated in the in- 
creasing stability of every good man, the sentiment 
of whose heart becomes like that of the Psalmist, 
" I hate vain thoughts, but Thy law do I love ; " 
while its almost invincible power for evil is illustrated 
in the increasing depravity of sin. " They encourage 
themselves in an evil matter; they search out iniqui- 
ties ; they accomplish a diligent search." " He hath 
left off to be wise, and to do good; he deviseth mis- 
chief on his bed." If every act tends to the forma- 
tion of habit, and every habit goes to form character 
and render it unalterable, who can calculate the inter- 
minable consequences attached to every voluntary act? 
A friend of mine once said that this motto should 
be written over the door of every young man's cham- 
ber : " 1^0 man was ever yet lost on a straight road." 
As we look back on our own experience, we realize 
how wide a course of wrong doing and thinking orig- 
inated in one step from the rough road of duty to the 
smooth path of inclination. Could we have always 
been on our guard, what mortifications, regrets, hu- 
miliations, and sufferings would have been spared us ! 
Have you by thoughtlessness or recklessness acquired 



A WIRE HOLDS YOIT. 525 

habits that are a hindrance to your prosperity, de- 
structive to your peace, and under the bondage of 
which you groan? Remember, if you would ever be 
free, it will be easier to-day to break your fetters 
than it ever will be again in this world; for habit 
strengthens with age. It is hard and painful to up- 
root an old habit ; it is harder to unlearn than it is to 
learn. It is easier to break the single thread than the 
strong cord. The difficulty is, the thread seems so 
small you can break it when you will, and with ease. 
Try it, and you will be surprised at the effort needed. 
A wire around your little finger, securely fastened to 
a pillar, holds you as certainly as an iron band with 
copper rivets. If you are held, it matters not how 
small or large the agent seems to be ; it holds you. 

A good resolution faithfully kept has saved many a 
man. When Hugh Miller was a stone-mason, it is 
stated that he drank at one time, in company with 
several of his fellow-workmen, two glasses of whiskey. 
On reaching home, he took up Bacon's Essays, and 
found the letters dance before his eyes, and he could 
not master the sense, when he said, " In that hour I 
determined that I would never sacrifice my capacity 
for intellectual enjoyment to a drinking usage, and by 
the help of God I was able to keep my resolution." 



CHAPTEE XXXYII. 



LAST GLEANmG-S. 



My First Visit to the Theatre — Booth and Hamblin — *' Apostate," and 
" Review " — The Old Bowery — My Passion for the Stage — Interview 
with a Manager — Comic Song at the Chatham — Persevering Efforts 
to be an Actor — The Summit of Ambition — The Old Lion of Boston 
— Charles Thorn — Charles Eaton — " Roll him in and tap him " — 
Tinsel and Sham — My Disenchantment — Thanks that my Way was 
blocked — Power to overcome — Coleridge — A Good Impulse — 
" Art thee crazy, Lad? " — The First Sermon — Paying Debts like a 
Christian — The Last Race — Retrospection — Contrasts — Lessons 
learned — Encouragements — Last Words. 

^^ ANY of us, in looking back on our 

I\ experiences of fifty years of life, 
c» must recall some instances of mer- 
-^ ciful interposition, when our own 
will, purpose, and determination have 
been set aside by an imseen but 
powerfully-felt agency, and we, with 
our will and purpose set, have been 
compelled to take an entirely opposite 
course from that Ave had planned, or have been mys- 
teriously, or I would rather say providentially, hin- 
dered from carrying out our determined plans. 

"When quite a young man, 1 had an intense desire, 
almost amounting to a passion, to adopt the theatrical 
profession. I was fascinated by the theatre, stage- 
struck, enamored of all dramatic representation. 

526 




FASCIKATED BY THE STAGE. 527 

I shall never forget the sensation on my first visit 
to the theatre. It was the Old Bowery. The play 
was " The Apostate : " Mr. Booth the elder as Pes- 
cava, Mr. Hamblin, the manager, as Hemeya^ and 
Miss Yincent as Florinda, The after-piece was 
"The Eeview; or, The Wags of Windsor:" Mr. 
Booth as John Lump^ Mr. Hamblin as Looney Mc- 
Twolter. Between the tragedy and the farce, Rice 
jumped Jim Crow, I cried and laughed. I was 
thrilled by the tragedy and convulsed by the farce. 
It was a new world. How beautiful were the women ! 
how noble were the- men ! Even Pescara, as his eyes 
flashed with malignant hate, was like a creature above 
the mere human. The gorgeous dresses, the music 
and lights dazzled me. I went home to my lodgings 
fascinated, carried out of myself. ^ Plow mean and 
poor was my little bedroom, and what a dreary mo- 
notony of life mine was, plodding in a shop to learn a 
trade ! Trade, profession, occupation, business, — all 
was tame, slow, grovelling, compared with the glori- 
ous, the grand, the bewildering pursuit of the actor. 
Again and again I enjoyed the delicious enchantment, 
and fully determined that I must be an actor, — I 
must strut my hour upon the stage. I envied the 
poor stick who came on to remove the tables and 
chairs, the poor, despised supe; even the doorkeeper 
was an object of interest. Yes, I was smitten. 

With what awe and reverence would we stage- 
struck boys watch some celebrated actor in the 
streets. It was an event worth recording. " I saw 
Forrest to-day." "I saw Booth to-day." I have 
even followed them and set my foot on the same 
stones they had trodden. Remember I was but six- 
teen years of age. These boys had each their 



528 THE DRAMATIC SOCIETY. 

favorite actress, for whom they would fight; ay, and 
throw down the gauntlet to all comers in her defence. 
How we would crowd around the stage-door to see 
some actor or actress pass out or in ! Madame Celeste 
was a great favorite ; we were never weary of singing 
her praises or witnessing her performance. I should 
hesitate to say how many times I had seen her in 
" The French Spy." 

To some persons all this may appear strange. They 
cannot conceive the attraction of all the stage para- 
phernalia and the glamour thrown round certain 
minds by the glitter and unreality of the stage. 

I have been often asked why I did not adopt the 
stage as a profession. It was not from lack of 
desire, though I do not pretend that I possessed the 
ability to become an actor of repute. "Why I did not, 
after all my attempts, I cannot tell, but that I was 
hindered, blocked in every direction, to my sore vexa- 
tion. 

I will not write here how the desire took full pos- 
session of me, and rendered me for a time almost 
useless. I know it led me to neglect the duty that 
lay before me. I eagerly devoured any plays that I 
could lay hold of; learned parts. I could repeat and 
spout Jaffier^ in " Venice Preserved." From tragedy 
to comedy; from farce to melodrama. I even con- 
templated writing a play. I have carried a tattered 
play-book surreptitiously to my work-bench, and 
learned the whole play while at my work, and then 
would mouth it and tear it to pieces in the most 
extravagant theatrical style. I joined a dramatic 
society. I played Zanga, in the ^^Eevenge;" the 
Doctor, in the "Duenna;" Jeremy Diddler, in the 
"Raising the "Wind," and some other minor parts; 



"l WANT TO BE AN ACTOR." 529 

but my resources were so limited I was compelled to 
give up the dramatic society. Yet all my available 
funds were expended on theatre tickets. 

One day I determmed to make a desperate effort 
for a footing on the stage ; and, getting excused from 
the shop for a day, I ventured to enter the box-office 
of the Bowery Theatre and inquire for Mr. Hamblin. 
I was told that he was on the stage, and that I could 
see him by applying at the stage-door. So to the 
stage-door I went, and for the first time I stood behind 
the scenes. A drearier place I had seldom seen, but 
my ardor was not damped by the contrast to all the 
glory I had connected with the stage. "When the 
gentleman appeared, I was fearfully embarrassed, but 
gathered courage to ask if he wanted an actor. "With 
a smile, he asked me several questions, such as what 
parts I had studied, what line of business I desired, 
what I considered myself fit for. I gave such an- 
swers as my confusion would allow, and at last 
blurted out: "I want to be an actor. If you will 
engage me, I will do anything; black your boots, run 
your errands, be your servant." He checked me by 
asking what my business was. I told him, '' book- 
binding;" when he said, "Ah, young man, you had 
better stick to bookbinding," and turned his back on 
me. Though rebuffed, I was not discouraged, but 
determined to persevere. 

I then applied to William Sefton, of the Chatham 
Theatre, for permission to sing a comic song between 
the pieces. The permission was granted, with a note 
to the leader of the orchestra to rehearse with me; 
and under the name of Gilbert, I sang the " Water 
Party," and actually obtained a generous encore. I 
remember that night the play was the " Golden 



530 SUMMIT OF AMBITIOIST. 

Farmer," John Sefton as Jimmy Twitclier, The 
actors were all dressed for their respective parts, and 
they encouraged me. The stage-manager said I had 
done very well, but no engagement followed. 

Soon after, I left IN'ew York, and for awhile I 
worked in Providence, where I became acquainted 
with some gentlemen attached to the theatre, lost a 
good situation through neglect of my duties and a 
fascination for the stage, and through the influ- 
ence of a Mr. Barry obtained an engagement at the 
Lion Theatre, Boston. Surely I am now at the sum- 
mit of my ambition — a permanent engagement on 
the staff of artists at a regular theatre. Before, it 
had been an occasional appearance to fill up a gap at 
a temporary place of entertainment. Alas! I found 
the gold to be tinsel. Here I acquired a thorough 
distaste .for all theatrical representations, and all the 
genius and intellect displayed by the most famous 
actor has not, and never can, reconcile me to the 
sham, the tinsel crowns, the pasteboard goblets, the 
tin armor, the paltry spangles, cotton for velvet, all 
make-believe, the combats, and the sham blood. Even 
the nightly disguise became an annoyance; the paint- 
ing the face, corking the eyebrows, pencilling the 
wrinkles, the doing up with false whiskers, hair, 
moustache, the French chalk, the rouge, the burnt 
cork, to say nothing of the habiliments, rendered the 
whole thing at the last odious to me ; and I never felt 
meaner, or had less self-respect, than when I was be- 
dizened to do some character. How men of ability 
and common sense can submit to this caricaturing 
night after night, passes my poor comprehension. 

In that theatre I found some men of education in 
the higher walks of the profession; but, oh, the dis- 



•. 



"taken AlSr OLD cask/^ 531 

enchantment! The beautiful women were, some of 
them, coarse and profane; the noble gentlemen often 
mean, tricky, and sponging. In fact, the unreality of 
it, the terrible temptation to the lower forms of vice, 
especially to those of the nervous, excitable tempera- 
ment, increased by the falsehood and fiction involved 
in their profession, in seeming to be what they never 
were or could be, studying virtue to represent it on 
the stage, while their lives were wholly vicious, re- 
pelled me. Mark me well, I do not say this of all 
actors. I only speak of the special temptations of 
this special profession. 

The Lion Theatre company was selected for a 
short season. There were some good actors. Charles 
Thorn was stage-manager. There was Chapman, 
J. R. Hall, and others I might name; one especially, 
Charles Eaton, a graduate of one of our principal 
colleges; genial, warm-hearted, nobody's enemy but 
his own. I do not believe the elder Booth person- 
ated lago more powerfully than Eaton. He was a 
genius, very ready with his retort, on or off the 
stage. On one occasion, in the play of " Pizarro," 
Eaton sustaining that character, one of the attend- 
ants rushes in with the cry, "My lord, we have just 
taken an old cacique.'^'' Pizarro^ who has been worked 
up by the occurrences of the drama to a fearful pitch 
of fury, replies, " Drag him before me ! " But in- 
stead, the supernumerary rushed in and roared out, 
" My lord, we have just taken an old casJcJ^ Eaton, 
who as Pizarro was prepared with the correct reply, 
looked for a moment amazed; but, startled by a titter 
among the audience, he shouted out, " Roll him in, 
and tap him; " and after the roar of applause and 
laughter had subsided, in which Eaton and all on the 



# 



532 MERCIFUL HENDRANCES. 

stage joined, the play proceeded. Poor Eaton ! every- 
one knows what a wreck he became. 

In spite of much that was attractive to a young 
man of my temperament, I felt an unaccountable re- 
pugnance to adopting acting as a profession; and so 
when the theatre closed, in about three weeks after I 
entered it, I never tried again, being perfectly satis- 
fied with my experience, though it lasted for so short 
a time. Looking back from my standpoint to-day, I 
thank God that hindrances were thrown in my way, 
and that I utterly failed in accomplishing my cher- 
ished purpose. It may be I failed for the lack of 
dramatic genius. However that may be, I am glad 
that I failed; for, though many have succeeded in 
resisting the temptation surrounding them in the pro- 
fession, I know — and the world knows — that many 
have been wrecked, and I have no conception that I 
should have escaped; so that I consider the hin- 
drances were merciful. 

In my past experience I recall impulses that have 
come to me mysteriously, and sometimes under 
strange circumstances. I remember one ilhistration. 
When in Worcester, England, twenty-six years ago, 
I was a guest of a gentleman, a member of Parlia- 
ment, who resided just opposite the city on the banks 
of the river, a delightful place, with a lawn, rock- 
work, and trees artistically planted. I was at that 
time a smoker, and though I never smoked in a gen- 
tleman's house without an invitation, I deemed it 
necessary to have my smoke after dinner, if by any 
means I could get it with no annoyance to others. So 
after dinner I strolled down to the river-side, out of 
sight of the house, took out my cigars and matches, 
and proceeded to light a cigar. The wind blew out 



SMOKmG, NOT PEAYIKa. 533 

the match. Another was tried, and another. I took 
off my hat to shield it from the wind. It was of no 
avail. I got some brimstone down my throat, or 
something as bad; but the cigar would not ignite. 
Then I kneeled down close to the rock by the path at 
the side of the river, and with my hat off endeavored 
to secure the object. ]^ow, I never go on my knees 
but I am reminded of prayer, and the thought came, 
" If any one should see me, they would probably 
think that some man had sought that retired spot for 
private devotion, and that he was saying his prayers; 
and what am I doing? I am sucking away at a cigar, 
hoping to obtain fire enough from the match to get a 
smoke. What would the audience say who heard me 
last night, should they see me now?" The inconsist- 
ency of my practice with my profession struck me so 
forcibly, that I said, " I'll have no more of it." I rose 
from my knees, took cigars and matches and threw 
them into the river, and I never touched a cigar to 
smoke for eighteen years. 

For our encouragement we have some splendid 
records of the power to overcome when men have 
yielded to a good impulse, and in God's name and 
seeking His help have resisted all temptation, and 
thus have been enabled to fight to the end unflinch- 
ingly. 

By his own letters and Cottle's reminiscences, it is 
abundantly proved that for eight or ten years Cole- 
ridge, with all his mighty gifts, seemed utterly lost to 
his friends through intemperance. Wordsworth and 
Cottle had given him up, and were looking every day 
to hear of his death. His wife had ceased to hear or 
to desire to hear any further of or from him, and he 
probably had not a real friend in the world who had 



534 A GOOD EVIPULSE. 

the slightest hopes of ever seeing him reformed. 
Wordsworth had appointed watchers to be with him 
night and day. He had violated every pledge, de- 
ceived e^ery friend, lost his honor, self-respect, and 
all confidence in his own power to conquer this all- 
absorbing vice. When an outcast, without a guinea, 
he did the wisest and most conscientious thing he had 
ever done, and which altered the destiny of his whole 
future life. After some correspondence with a physi- 
cian, to whom he revealed his situation, he became an 
inmate of the family of Dr. Gihuan, of Highgate. 
There he lived for thirty years, restored by loving 
and respectful treatment, and moral and medical care 
and restraint. He entered the house an humble peni- 
tent, the slave of opium. He dwelt there for almost 
a generation, living and at length dying a Christian; 
and he earnestly desired that after his death a full 
statement of his case might be laid before the world. 

When a man yields to a good impulse because it is 
good and right, it will never lead him astray. I met 
a man who is a living and striking example of this. 
A brief sketch of his career was published some time 
since by Rev. John Guttridge, of Manchester, Eng- 
land. He was a sporting man, and was regarded as 
no ordinary racer. He had been matched and betted 
on forty-seven times. He was very popular, and he 
resolved to open a beer-house, which should serve as 
a place of resort for his associates. There was in him 
a good deal of natural tenderness, and some con- 
science; and in my experience I have found among 
some of the hardest characters a tenderness that was 
surprising. Jerry McAuley, once a river-thief and a 
" hard case," now a tender-hearted Christian, the love 
of Jesus melting the heart once so callous. One day 



"I'll get out of it." 537 

this man noticed a poor woman, with two or three 
children, whose husband was drinking in his shop, 
looking anxiously in at the door. The thought of the 
meanness of selling beer and making money out of 
the poverty of this family struck him quite forcibly, 
and the impulse to get out of the miserable business 
came on him with such power that he said to his wife, 
" See here, lass, I'll work my fingers to the stumps 
before I'll keep a box like this ; and I'll get out of it." 
"When it was known that he purposed giving up the 
business, he was advised to advertise and sell it. 
"What was his reply? • "!N^a, na; I give it up because 
it's bad; and I'll put no man in a bad business for 
money. If any man goes into this box, he goes in on 
his owi bottom for all me." To a brewer, who offered 
to put him in a larger and more profitable house, he 
said, " 'Na, I would not do it for all the world. I'd 
die first." At that time he saw no evil in the drink 
itself, only in its abuse. He therefore secured a 
house, and took to it several barrels of ale and porter 
for moderate use. One day he saw a notice in the 
street of a temperance meeting to be held. He 
yielded to the impulse, and decided to go. Under 
the influence of the lecture, which was delivered by 
Mr. Jabez Inwards, of London, he went home, hast- 
ened to the cellar, and turned the tap of every barrel. 
His wife, being told by one of the children what was 
going on, rushed into the cellar. 

"What are thee doing, lad? " 

" Don't thee see what I be doing." 

" Eh ! but wilful waste makes woful want, and thee 
art wasting the good stuff." 

Seeing that she produced no effect by her appeal, 
she said: 

33 



538 THE FIRST SEEMON^. 

"Art thee crazy, lad?" 

" I^o, I'm not crazy ; I'm coming to my senses." 

" But how dost thee think I can care for the chil- 
dren without a drop of ale?" 

" Thee must try porridge, for I'll have no more of 
the stuff in the house." 

He soon signed the pledge of total abstinence, and 
it was to him the dawn of a new life. It was rolling 
away the stone from the door of the sepulchre. His 
next good impulse was to go to a place of wor- 
ship, having never been into one before. The only 
religious exercise he remembered was part of a prayer 
by a street preacher. He went, of his own accord, 
with no invitation, to hear the gospel preached 
for the first time in his life. If I was a preacher, I 
would prefer an audience of men and women who had 
never heard the sound of the gospel, than an audience 
of those who had heard the message for forty years, 
and been unmoved by it. The first sermon he heard 
was from the passage in Timothy : " Godliness is 
profitable unto all things, having the promise of the 
life that now is, and that which is to come." The 
preacher was not a learned man, or a refined and elo- 
quent speaker; but his homely phrases were thor- 
oughly understood, and the effect produced was 
shown by the remark, after the discourse: "If it's 
true what that chap says, it will just suit me. Only 
think! good for this life, and good for t'other. All 
right now, and all right then. Safe here, and safe 
there. That's just what I want, and I'll have it." 

This led to his seeking and finding, and the com- 
mencing of a consistent Christian life. His fifteen 
years' recklessness had left him in debt; so he did 
what every Christian should do, — began to pay his 



1 



"match with the devil." 539 

debts. He had seven little children, and was owing 
one hundred and fifty pounds, without a penny to 
meet his obligations. He went to his principal cred- 
itor, to whom he was indebted seventy-five pounds, 
and engaged to pay five shillings per week, which he 
did, never missing a week for more than five years. 
To another creditor, who had never even mentioned 
the debt to him, he went, three years after he became 
a Christian, and said: 

" I believe I owe thee seven pounds. Now, I Ve a 
pig that I Ve fed instead of feeding the publican, and 
thou canst have the pig." 

" Well, lad," was the reply, " I '11 take the pig ; and 
if there 's aught over, I '11 pay thee the balance." 

The pig was killed, weighed, and the balance of 
three pounds ten shillings was paid over. 

On one occasion an old companion, who did not 
understand the great change wrought in him, called 
at his shop to obtain some sporting information, and 
wished to know who was going to win the race in 
Hyde Park. 

" I do not know anything at all about it." 

"Nay, thee canst tell us something about it; thou 
knowest what they've done afore." 

"JSTay, lad; I've nobbut another race to run, and 
then I've done." 

"Another race art thee going to run? Another 
race? "Who is it with? Hast thee made another 
match? " 

"Ay ; I've made a match with the Devil for eternal 
life and my own soul, and it will take me all the day^ 
of my life to beat him." 

His old companion was quite taken aback. A 
cannon-shot would scarcely have surprised him more 



540 WILLIAM WrLBERrOECE. 

than such a reply from one who had been so famous 
as a sporting character and so frequently applauded 
in " Bell's Life." 

When I shook hands with him, last year, he was 
sixty-four years of age, and had been an earnest 
worker for temperance and a consistent Christian for 
twenty-nine years, with a family of six sons and two 
daughters walking with him in the right road, one of 
his sons being a successful Christian minister. He 
occupies a respectable position; has never been for- 
saken ; has been blessed in " basket and store," body 
and soul, and has been the means of great blessing to 
others. The beginning of all this was the yielding to 
a good impulse and giving up what he believed to be 
wrong. Such a lesson needs no comment. 

In the retrospection necessary to the compilation 
of such a book as this there are multitudes of inci- 
dents, passages of experience almost forgotten, that 
spring up in the memory with a vividness positively 
startling; and as this work draws to a conclusion, 
the material seems of larger bulk than at its com- 
mencement. 

In 1827, when a boy of ten, I was taken by my 
father to a prayer-meeting held in the lodgings of 
the celebrated William Wilberforce, in my native vil- 
lage of Sandgate. After the meeting Wilberforce 
called me to him, I being the only boy there, and, 
laying his hand on my head, gave me his blessing. 
In 1879 I was a guest of his grandson, Rev. Basil 
Wilberforce, Canon of Winchester, at the Deanery of 
St. Mary's, Southampton. In June, 1829, I left the 
village of Sandgate, a boy of twelve, on the top of a 
night-coach, for London, on my way to America. In 
June, 1879, fifty years after, I visited Sandgate to lay 



"work done foe god." 541 

the corner-stone of a memorial coffee-palace, and re- 
ceived a most cordial greeting. As we were entering 
the village the carriage was stopped, and, in the kind- 
ness of their hearts, the people took out the horses 
and drew us through the main street. On every side 
were streamers and flags and words of welcome. 
Between these points, and during the years that in- 
tervened, what a varied experience had been mine! 
And the great lessons learned from it all are, that 
life is a warfare, a conflict against the power of evil; 
that life is unsatisfactory unless there has been work 
done in reference to another and higher state of ex- 
istence; that there is something to live for above the 
fleeting, selfish pleasures that so many spend all to 
obtain, and die miserably poor. 

"We know that though we may see no results from 
our whole life's labor, and die without a sign that our 
work has been approved or successful, yet we must 
remember that — 

" Work done for God, it dieth not." 

We may die and be forgotten, but our works shall 
live after us. The good seed we have been permitted 
to sow shall result in a harvest that others shall 
gather. To me the great encouragement is that " He 
shall subdue all things unto Himself;" " He shall put 
all things under His feet." Let us not be disheart- 
ened, though the evil we seek to remove seems to 
stand solid and unyielding against all our efforts. 

On our rugged and romantic coast we see the 
mighty bastion of rock withstanding the fury of the 
waves, and apparently impregnable. Hark to the 
thunder of the crash, as they dash themselves against 
these cliffs, and come in full, sweeping charge against 



542 LAST WORDS. 

these rocks. They fall back, broken, weak, and discom- 
fited. Yet they only give place to fresh levies repeat- 
ing the assault, and they, like their predecessors, are 
hurled back defeated. " The war seems endless. Yet 
by slow degrees the sea gains on its silent enemy; it 
undermines, it channels, it gnaws caverns, it eats out 
chasms, it wears away the surface little by little, it 
grinds into sand, it gashes with scars, and will never 
rest till it has dragged down its opposing walls into 
its depths." So, in the great conflict of right and 
wrong, generation after generation may pass away, 
apparently defeated, and the wrong appear to gain 
the mastery and hold it, but victory must come. " If 
it tarry, wait for it; for it shall surely come." "He 
shall take to Himself His great name and rule." 

And now, as I lay down my pen, in view of all 
these years of life, I can say, with Montgomery in his 
sonnet on the " Pilgrim's Progress : " 

*' Yes, I have known and felt and suffered all 
That tempts or thwarts the pilgrim on his way ; 
Have proved how bitter 'tis to go astray, 
How hard to climb, how perilous to fall ; 
Now halting, ere I tread the enchanted ground, 
I look behind, before me, and around." 



Back to the Cross, where first my peace was sealed, 

I turn mine eyes : it darts a single ray, 

A clue of light through all ' the narrow way ; ' 

Past, present, future, are at once revealed. 

Press on, my soul! what now thy course shall stay? 

No foe can conquer thee, unless thou yield." 



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